


supercut (come home to my heart)

by silver (rosegolds)



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Mentions of Injuries, Pining, Reunions, Slow Burn, extremely mild smut, kihyun's cheeks are perpetually rosy, post-disbandment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegolds/pseuds/silver
Summary: Kihyun wonders how he got to this point. How many missed calls, unheard voicemails, and ignored texts it took to bring him here, back to Minhyuk.Or, a supercut of:1) Kihyun reuniting with his former bandmates, and2) memories that make him blush.(a post-disbandment au)
Relationships: Lee Minhyuk/Yoo Kihyun
Comments: 14
Kudos: 81





	supercut (come home to my heart)

**Author's Note:**

> insp. by supercut by lorde ♡
> 
> in this fic, mx disbands in 2022 after their contracts expire, and the story begins 2 years post-disbandment. there’s canon references, but some are altered slightly for the sake of the story! pls understand lol
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!! ♡

_< insert tape >  
< fast-forward >_

Kihyun drums his fingers against the fretboard and lets out a small huff. His fingers are calloused, wearing several years of guitar playing on them, and they’re tired. He’s tired.

The yellow glow of the studio lighting doesn’t bring the comfort it usually does. Kihyun prefers the warm yellow over white fluorescent, it reminds him of the sun. Today the artificiality just gives him a headache, he just wants to go home, the studio walls starting to close in and feel suffocating. He misses the _real_ sun.

“Jooheon, I’m telling you, I have fucking writer’s block,” Kihyun says, annoyance unrestrained. He scrapes his nails and calloused fingers against the frets some more, and Jooheon winces at the sound.

“Dude, you never get writer’s block,” Jooheon says, chin in hand, not looking away from his laptop. “What’s up with you?”

They’re cramped in a tiny studio—if you could even call it that—in the company building, working on Kihyun’s upcoming album. Or at least trying to. Three promotion cycles a year isn’t something Kihyun is used to. It’s refreshing, in a way, to have a change of pace. But the lack of touring from his boy group days has turned him into a homebody of sorts. His heart aches to just get out of Seoul for once, do something different, see anything besides his usual scenery of the company building or his lifeless luxury apartment. It’s unlike him to feel this way, he usually likes his routine, but maybe then he’d at least have something to write about. Inspiration’s already running dry just two years into his solo career.

Kihyun sets his guitar down on the stand up against the wall and drags his palms down his face. “I don’t know,” he grumbles, face still in his hands. “Can we take a break? I have a headache.” 

Jooheon silently complies and slips his headphones off. He picks up his chopsticks and digs back into the takeout that they’d brought in almost two hours ago. It’s probably cold by now, but Jooheon doesn’t seem to give a fuck. 

“You heard from Changkyun recently?” Jooheon asks, cheeks stuffed with dumplings. Kihyun shakes his head. His heart already feels a pang of nostalgia just from hearing his former bandmate’s name.

Kihyun had realized not too long after Monsta X’s disbandment that he absolutely _sucked_ at keeping in touch with people. It was so easy when they were all together all the time, he never had to keep up with conversations over text. He really only ever messaged the other members to make plans for the day or to infiltrate their group chat with cute animal videos he found himself crying over at four in the morning. There was no point in texting when he knew the others were in the next room over, or in the bunk under his.

He thinks about it as he watches Jooheon stuff his face with another dumpling, and it’s weird to think about, really. When Kihyun first debuted, he thought he’d made best friends for life. He couldn’t imagine his life without his bandmates, it just didn’t comprehend. He did _everything_ with them. Kihyun really sucked at being alone, so thankfully, he never was. 

As the years went by, Kihyun mellowed out. The constant need to go out and do things and be around people like the extrovert he was—it faded as he neared the end of his twenties and settled into a solo career after the members went their separate ways. Though he still had a constant itch to be busy, he satisfied this craving by throwing himself into his work more than ever. Hence, the three comebacks a year. 

And all of these things piled onto each other gave him even more reason to leave some of his friendships with his former bandmates in suspension. 

“He’s finally giving up the weird Soundcloud-rap-finding-himself gig and coming back to the company,” Jooheon continues. “Not that he ever left, I guess.”

Kihyun raises an eyebrow as he helps himself to one of Jooheon’s dumplings. “Coming back, officially? He’s gonna produce here for real?”

“Yeah, and thank God. Starship needs more producers,” Jooheon says. “A lot of our producers’ contracts are ending soon. If he didn’t come back, it’d probably be just me left.”

“God, he’s gonna scare the new debuts away with his noise music,” Kihyun says, a small smile gracing his lips. They were so _young_ , unlike Kihyun who had already been a twenty-one-year-old when he’d debuted. Their bright doe eyes, their youthful naivety, and the way they spoke to him—timid, but excited—warmed his heart. 

“It’s experimental!” Jooheon laughs, parroting back what Changkyun had told soon after renewing his contract, announcing a hiatus, and dropping a surprise mixtape that honestly sounded like he’d recorded himself clashing pots and pans together. Upon first listen, Jooheon and Kihyun didn’t quite get it, but they knew Changkyun had felt confined by the shackles of idol music. They knew he felt deprived of creative autonomy despite having several production credits in their group discography. He needed to do something different, something unique. So, his excursion into an avant-garde mix of pop, r&b, rap, and literal noise was the breath of fresh air he so desperately needed before settling into his role as an in-house producer for the company, alongside Jooheon.

“Man, I haven’t seen him in a while,” Kihyun mumbles, feeling a little ashamed. “Kinda missed him.”

“Well, soon you’ll be seeing him around here everyday,” Jooheon says, slapping a hand on Kihyun’s back. He just smiles when Kihyun feigns pain. “And hey, maybe some of his pots and pans shit will be good for your next album. You know, get you out of writer’s block.”

Kihyun grimaces, which makes Jooheon giggle. He knows Kihyun doesn’t have any bite. 

“Yeah, _sure_.”

_< pause >  
< rewind >_

Minhyuk’s cheeks are flushed. The soju in the bottle he’s holding is sloshing about.

“You’re my _best friend_ ,” he says, words slurring together. He throws his arm around Kihyun’s shoulders. Kihyun doesn’t bother feigning his annoyance that Minhyuk’s long arm can grab his narrow shoulders so easily. There’s no point right now.

“And _you’re_ drunk,” Kihyun says, pushing Minhyuk’s arm off. Maybe Kihyun regrets telling the others they should play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets to be designated driver for the night. Maybe Kihyun regrets choosing paper. Maybe Kihyun regrets ever getting his driver’s license in the first place.

Maybe his cheeks are heating up, maybe they aren’t, that’s his business.

Minhyuk doesn’t usually drink. It’s a bit jarring, seeing him like this. But tonight’s a special occasion. He only drinks on rare, special occasions. 

They’re out for dinner. It’s a change from what they usually do, and that doesn’t even describe the half of it. The members, a few staff. They huddle around a too-small table in the back of a familiar restaurant.

It’s their last dinner together, as a group. 

“We’re gonna be best friends forever, right?” Minhyuk gurgles. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Kihyun brushes his knuckles against Minhyuk’s cheek. It’s warm.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. x4. x8. x16. >_

Minhyuk’s cheeks are flushed. He’s lying on the floor of the practice room, sweat running across his forehead. Hyungwon stumbles into a sitting position beside him.

“New trainees starting today. Did you hear?” Hyungwon says, although it’s more of a sputter. He tries to hide it, though. Minhyuk sees through it. Practice has been getting harder and harder.

Minhyuk closes his eyes, exhaustion displayed on his face. His head is pounding. 

“We should go say hi later.” He already knows Hyungwon is rolling his eyes, with a sigh just waiting to escape, so he continues, “Who knows, maybe we’ll debut with them.”

“Yeah, if we ever fucking debut,” Hyungwon scoffs. 

The new trainees look like complete dorks, Minhyuk decides later. Especially one of the shorter ones, whose chin is jutting out, black hair pushed back into a beanie. He’s carrying himself with what Minhyuk knows is fake confidence. Fake it ‘til you make it, he supposes.

“What’s your name?” Minhyuk offers in a friendly tone, along with his hand outstretched for a handshake.

“Yoo Kihyun.”

“I’m Minhyuk.”

“Let’s debut together, shall we Minhyuk?”

Kihyun grabs onto Minhyuk’s hand with a firm grip. Kihyun’s hands are so small, Minhyuk notices. He expects the handshake to be overcompensating, like the guy’s trying to prove himself. But it’s not like that. Kihyun’s gaze is gentle, sincere. Minhyuk can feel it to the tips of his fingers as they brush against Kihyun’s wrist—the warmth.

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

Trying to balance two iced americanos in one hand while fishing the company key card out of his wallet proves itself to be extremely annoying time and time again, but time and time again Kihyun forgets to ask the barista for one of those cardboard trays. 

Kihyun curses as the wind bares its teeth against his bundled-up body. He settles further into his scarf, his fingers numb against the plastic encasing the iced coffees. It’s already far too cold for September.

He’s annoyed. He’s genuinely considering sacrificing Jooheon’s coffee to the floor when he hears footsteps behind him and a familiar voice.

“Here, let me hold that for you.” 

Kihyun spins around and his eyes soften when they meet Hyunwoo’s. 

“Hyunwoo,” Kihyun breathes out, handing the coffees to him. “Haven’t been bumping into you lately. You’ve been busy?”

Kihyun unlocks the door and holds it open for Hyunwoo, shoving the key card into his back pocket somewhere. He takes the coffees back, letting Hyunwoo grab his dance bag off the floor. They walk comfortably side by side, and Kihyun’s annoyance from trying (and failing) to open the door is already dissipating.

“Super busy. The new boy group is debuting soon, and I’m still just winding down from their pre-debut stuff,” Hyunwoo says. “They’re good kids, though. They’re talented.”

Kihyun nods. He looks over to Hyunwoo’s side profile. His jaw is strong and chiseled, he’s wearing the maturity of post disbandment, but still carries the grace and humble confidence that Kihyun’s familiar with. It’s the same grace and humble confidence that carried their team to success years ago. He doesn’t say it, and hasn’t said it before, but Kihyun’s so proud. Maybe now’s the time to say it.

“I mean this—and not in an awkward mushy-gushy way—but I’m really proud of you,” Kihyun says. They slow to a stop at the junction between the practice rooms and hallway leading to the recording studios. “The new choreographies look amazing. If I were you, I’d be selfish and keep them for myself.”

Hyunwoo laughs. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leans against the wall. Modest as ever, but all Kihyun can think is that Hyunwoo, of all people, deserves to brag once in a while.

“Thanks, Kihyun,” he says. “I know everyone’s always on my ass about not going solo, but this is really nice for me. Like, even back then, it was never about me. I only ever wanted the team to succeed. It’s the same now, with the kids. I don’t mind living vicariously through them.”

Kihyun’s eyes crinkle with fondness hearing Hyunwoo talking about the trainees, calling them _kids_. He knows Hyunwoo loves them as if they _were_ his own kids. 

He’s thankful that Hyunwoo decided to stay with Starship. He’s thankful to see a friendly and familiar face around the company every now and then, even though these days he’s been seeing Hyunwoo less and less, with the two of them getting busier and busier. 

Everyone was surprised when Hyunwoo said he wasn’t going to pursue a solo career. He was the total package, the perfect idol—it seemed like a complete missed opportunity to not take advantage of it. Even the public was anticipating it.

But Kihyun understood. Hyunwoo was never one to call too much attention to himself, even though he deserved to. He really just loved to dance and sing, the fame was just a bonus. Just like Kihyun, he’d mellowed out over the years, even more so than he already was. And with that came the realization that now, more than ever, was a good time to settle behind the scenes, take the chance to just _breathe_ without the spotlight scorching over him. Kihyun couldn’t think of a better candidate for Starship’s new director of choreography. Over the last couple of months, Hyunwoo had taken on even more leadership with the new trainees, coaching them with vocals, being a mentor, buying them lunch—everything. The old habits of a workaholic idol never really leave you, Kihyun supposes. But he also thinks how amazing it would’ve been to have a kind and patient teacher like Hyunwoo, how lucky the kids are. How mean his own teachers were.

“I know,” Kihyun smiles. “The new gig suits you. The kids love you, you’re like their hero. You’ve really found your calling.”

“So, singing and dancing on stage wasn’t my calling?” Hyunwoo asks, but there’s no bite to it. It makes Kihyun laugh.

“You’re the best of the best, that’s why the kids gotta learn from you,” Kihyun says, patting Hyunwoo’s shoulder. They smile at each other and it feels just like old times, despite still seeing each other every once in a while at the company. It’s nice to know nothing’s changed, Kihyun thinks.

“The kids’ class starts in fifteen minutes, so I gotta go soon. But—” Hyunwoo says, swinging the strap of his dance bag onto his shoulders. “There’s probably a better time to say this but I’m too excited, I gotta tell you now.”

“What is it?”

“They’re _finally_ letting me choreograph for Hoseok,” Hyunwoo says, beaming. Kihyun smiles too, his heart feeling like a hot air balloon. He assumes the feeling is a good thing. 

“God, it’s about fucking time,” Kihyun says, with a genuine smile. Hyunwoo and Hoseok were—and still are—the best of friends. Kihyun remembers it was the hardest on Hyunwoo when Hoseok suddenly had to leave the group years ago, especially with the members not being allowed to publicly see him anymore. Going from seeing someone everyday and having that suddenly ripped away from you—whiplash would be an understatement. 

The members stuck to cheering him on from the sidelines, their shared group chat lighting up with congratulations whenever Hoseok scored a music show win or mushy love confessions on Hoseok’s birthday each year. It wasn’t the same as it was before, but Kihyun thought it was better than nothing, at least. He was scared at first that the company would make him delete Hoseok’s phone number and all traces of contact between them, because honestly, they'd wipe his memory if they could. Maybe they would’ve, and just forgot to.

It was cruel, because even after Hyunwoo stepped down from the spotlight and stumbled into the world of choreographing, Starship never let him choreograph for Hoseok. Maybe it was because Hoseok wasn’t technically part of Starship, having settled into one of their subsidiaries, or maybe they were just evil. Kihyun always preferred to think it was the latter. 

Which is exactly why Kihyun made sure Hyunwoo bullied the higher-ups at the company to let him work with Hoseok again. Or at least, the Hyunwoo version of bullying, which was more of just politely asking and saying “okay, I understand” when he was given a no. Kihyun likes to think the last straw was him storming into the director’s office, giving them a piece of his mind. He hadn’t told Hyunwoo about it though. Hyunwoo would probably be mortified that Kihyun had given his boss threats of kicking his ass. But Kihyun knows Hyunwoo would still be thankful, because now he gets to work with his best friend again.

“Hoseok is doing so well,” Kihyun muses. “He’s really a star up there, huh?”

“I know, and he’s even found a way to improve. Which is crazy ‘cos he was already amazing,” Hyunwoo gushes. His voice drips with love and admiration. “He’s going back to a more r&b sound for the next comeback. It sounds fucking amazing already, and the album’s not even done yet.”

Kihyun nods, staying silent and a little lost in thought.

“Your comeback’s scheduled for mid-October, right?” Hyunwoo asks. Kihyun nods again. “So is Hoseok’s—wait, I guess this means you guys will finally promote at the same time. I can’t believe how long they managed to avoid that.”

Kihyun’s eyes widen, his heart pulls, and his silence persists. He hadn’t seen Hoseok in ages, even though he was one of Kihyun’s closest friends. The group chat had died down and Kihyun had been meaning to message him, ask him to hang out, or something, anything. It’s been forever, but he’d been meaning to. Always meaning to, but never actually going through with it. 

“Anyways, I’d better get going,” Hyunwoo says. He’s got his phone out to check the time. “The kids will be here soon, I gotta get set up.” 

Kihyun watches Hyunwoo disappear into the practice room and sends him a small wave before the door shuts. 

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. x4. x8. >_

Kihyun fiddles with the buttons on his camera with his pudgy fingers. Minhyuk rolls his eyes. He knows Kihyun doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but humours him as he makes it look like he does.

“Will you hurry up,” Minhyuk whines as he adjusts his bangs with his index finger. Kihyun waves his hand and continues pressing aimlessly, zooming in and out.

Minhyuk groans. Kihyun stomps his foot. He looks like a toddler. Minhyuk laughs.

“Kihyun, you’re so funny and you don’t even know it,” Minhyuk says between giggles. Kihyun lifts an eyebrow. 

“I’m not even doing anything.”

Minhyuk laughs again. Kihyun scowls. He’s a _serious photographer._ Minhyuk just keeps laughing. 

_Click._ It’s the shutter.

“Hey! I wasn’t even ready,” Minhyuk pouts. 

“You were complaining this entire time that I’m taking too long and I finally take the damn picture and you’re _still_ complaining.”

“You’re annoying,” Minhyuk says, walking over to Kihyun, who’s now looking at the photo in the tiny monitor. 

It’s blurry. Minhyuk’s sporting a shit eating grin. His eyes are bright, sparkling. 

“Kihyun, I look dumb here.”

Kihyun decides it’s his favourite picture he’s ever taken. The setting sun, the golden wash over Minhyuk’s skin. Minhyuk’s open mouthed smile, the glitter in his eyes from the sun, his fuzzy and candid happiness—it’s all so warm.

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

The album sucks, and Kihyun knows it. It sucks, but it still sells well, even managing to bring him a new record for first week album sales. How it manages to do that, Kihyun has no idea, but he decides he won’t question the omnipotent (albeit tasteless) forces of the universe any further.

“Come on, it’s not _that_ bad,” Jooheon says, fixing up his drum set. Kihyun couldn’t stop himself from sighing when he saw Jooheon lugging in his own bass drum instead of just using the one that’s already in the practice room. The front is embellished with a bee that was made of like, fucking gold or something. It was a gift from Minhyuk for his birthday last year. 

Kihyun’s usual drummer called in sick that morning, and Jooheon was happy to step in, especially since he doesn’t have much to do now that Kihyun’s months-in-the-making album is finally out.

It’s last minute band practice before taking on music shows everyday for the next two weeks. He’s excited, at least that’s what he tells himself. But Kihyun had been thinking about not attending music shows anymore for some time now. He wants to let go of the idol routine as much as possible. He’d even planned to have a meeting with his manager about it, but for some reason, after his conversation with Hyunwoo outside the trainee practice room a couple weeks ago, the thought never passed through his mind again. 

Maybe the _next_ comeback will be the last one for music shows, Kihyun thinks.

Jooheon pouts. “Personally, I think I did a great job producing it. Be thankful.”

Kihyun thumbs the tuning pegs of his guitar and sighs. He lets his legs fall slack under the stool he’s sitting on. His hands run through his hair, brushing it out of his face. His hair is black now, and has been for a few years. Even though he’s yet to let go of music shows, hair dye was one of the first things to be left in the dust as far as idol life goes. That, and CFs for brands he really didn’t give a shit about.

“I _am_ thankful. Jooheon you did great, and I really mean that. Honestly, you saved my shitty songwriting,” Kihyun says.

Jooheon rolls his eyes, spinning his drumsticks in his fingers, a faint smile on the corners of his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Producer of the year, what can I say?”

“Writer’s block is really a piece of shit,” Kihyun says, shaking his head. “Seriously. The lyrics I wrote this time were so bad, I don’t even wanna think about singing them every night.”

“The fans love it, though,” Jooheon says.

“They love _everything_. I could even get away with letting sir pots-and-pans produce the next album,” Kihyun says. Jooheon throws his head back laughing.

“That’s what I’ve been saying, Kihyun. It’s not such a bad idea,” Jooheon says, pointing one of his drumsticks at Kihyun. “I’ll tell him to lay off on the noise. Changkyun would be down, and it’d be a cool way to find a new, fresh sound. Make you forget about this shit-show of an album.”

Kihyun hums. “Yeah, maybe it is a good idea.”

“I’m still really surprised your writer’s block was _this_ shit this time, though. Like, I’ve never seen you go through it this bad before, you’re usually a lyrical genius,” Jooheon says. Kihyun stares off into space.

“I don’t even know how to explain it. But it’s like—I don’t know, everything’s cold all of a sudden,” Kihyun rambles defeatedly. “My brain is cold and empty and dead.”

“Cold?”

“Yeah, cold.”

“Your brain is _cold.”_

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Well, I mean. It _is_ October.”

“Shut up, Jooheon.”

Jooheon brings his index finger to his chin, pretending to think. “Kihyun, you’re making no sense. I think you just forgot how to speak Korean. And that’s why your lyrics suck.”

Kihyun scoffs. “Thanks.”

“Don’t worry, dude,” Jooheon says. “The next album will be bigger and better, I promise.”

Kihyun doesn’t say anything else, opting to flip through his sheet music instead, just wanting to get practice over with.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. x4. >_

Tokyo is shimmering lights, it’s whirring, it’s blues and pinks and neon. He wishes he could capture the beauty on film. The night air is crisp. Kihyun can see his breath in it.

It’s well after midnight when he follows Minhyuk into the back of the van. He lets himself fall beside Minhyuk lifelessly. Minhyuk’s half awake, probably on the brink of death. 

Last Japan fan meeting of the year, check. Kihyun’s ears are still ringing. 

It’s dark now, aside from the soft glow of the streetlights and the piercing moonlight. Kihyun can barely make out Minhyuk’s visage in the low light of the van.

“Oh. Did they tell you? Hotel mix-up,” Minhyuk mumbles into Kihyun’s shoulder. Kihyun isn’t sure when Minhyuk had settled his head into the crook of his neck. Minhyuk’s breath is warm against Kihyun’s collarbone.

Kihyun makes a noise that sounds like something in between _what_ and _huh_. He’s rubbing his eyes.

“All our rooms only have one bed,” Minhyuk says. “It’s actually hilarious. Anyways, you get to cuddle with me tonight.”

“Lucky me,” Kihyun says. His gaze locks on the bright city lights the rest of the drive.

The bed is a queen, at least. 

Kihyun knows he’s going to stand under the water for an hour staring off into space, so he lets Minhyuk shower first. He sits on the bed and gets a head start on his plan of staring off into space while he waits.

Later, when Kihyun comes out of the shower, Minhyuk’s already settled into bed. The lights are off. He’s staring at his phone with the brightness set way too high. 

Kihyun lets his wet hair soak into the pillowcase.

“Really, Kihyun? You’re getting the pillows all wet,” Minhyuk groans sleepily. Kihyun shrugs. He’s fucking exhausted.

Minhyuk seems to fall asleep almost immediately, leaving Kihyun to toss and turn. It’s weird, he was so tired every step from the van to this bed, and now he can’t sleep. It’s too cold.

He wills himself to sleep. A couple hours, at least.

The next morning, it’s not so cold anymore. He feels a weight against his waist. His dreams are starting to fade in his head. Their alarm goes off. He pushes Minhyuk’s arm off of him, and almost regrets it the moment he does. 

“Five more minutes,” Minhyuk mumbles groggily. He fumbles with his phone trying to silence it. He throws his arm back to where it was.

Minhyuk’s better than a blanket, Kihyun decides in his sleep deprived state. He’s cozy and warm in a way no blanket could ever be.

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

Kihyun takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut. His fingers curl into round fists.

“ _Congratulations to this week’s winner, Wonho!_ ”

Kihyun lets himself exhale, and looks around as the confetti flutters down and sticks to his hair. He didn’t win, and that’s okay. He looks over to find Hoseok, who looks over the moon. It brings an involuntary smile to Kihyun’s face. 

Kihyun finds himself getting quickly ushered off the stage as Hoseok finishes his thank you speech. The encore music pours in. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust from the bright stage lights to the low light of backstage. 

He’s relieved. Another week of music shows, check. 

Hoseok had collected every trophy this week, leaving Kihyun to bolt off the stage to avoid talking to him. Kihyun knows he’s being ridiculous—Hoseok is his friend, and running for your life is not at all the rational response to seeing your friend.

So, this time, he waits. He watches Hoseok from backstage as he smiles and bows to his fans. Stage crew and idols push past him, and Kihyun lets them whiz by, feeling like his feet are nailed to the floor. Sweat runs down the back of his neck, and he tells himself it’s just from the scorching stage lights from earlier.

Kihyun wonders if the Hoseok he knew—the Hoseok he _knows_ —has changed over the years. Kihyun watches Hoseok’s performances and interviews all the time, and the Hoseok he knows seems to still be there, shining with talent, glowing with kindness and childlike wonder. Kihyun hopes he’s right. He hates being wrong.

Kihyun barely has the chance to think about how much he misses Hoseok because before he knows it, Hoseok is right there, in front of him. Hoseok’s hair is a blinding platinum blonde, his eyelids pink and sparkly, but it’s nothing compared to the sparkle of his bright doe eyes.

And before Kihyun can continue his train of overthinking about how to greet him, Hoseok’s pulling him into a tight hug. Strong arms and hands squeeze Kihyun’s body. The Inkigayo trophy is digging into Kihyun’s back but Kihyun doesn’t give a fuck, he feels safe, he feels so relieved.

“Oh my gosh, Kihyun, I haven’t seen you in forever,” Hoseok says, but it’s muffled against the crook of Kihyun’s neck. Hoseok pulls back, and puts his hands on Kihyun’s shoulders. “Look at you, you’re so grown up!”

“Hoseok, I look the same as how you last saw me,” Kihyun giggles, unable to hold back his smile. Hoseok’s smiling back at him so big Kihyun thinks his face might explode.

“I’m so glad I caught you today. This whole week I was gonna say hi, but I always missed you before you left,” Hoseok says, ruffling Kihyun’s hair. Kihyun laughs awkwardly. 

“Yeah, I... my manager doesn’t like me sticking around too long,” he says, and hopes it’s believable since ‘I’m scared you hate me’ doesn’t seem like a good answer, even if it happens to be an honest one.

“He’s still the same hardass, huh?” Hoseok laughs. “Thanks for being rebellious and staying behind today.”

The tension leaves Kihyun’s shoulders. This is good, this is easy. Hoseok looks so happy to see him, Kihyun could almost cry. He might’ve even had to wipe away a few tears when Hoseok pulls him in again for a goodbye hug. 

Hoseok sweeps next week’s wins too, and after each show, Kihyun stays behind to congratulate him. It gets easier and easier each time. The week gives him the confidence to actually message Hoseok and ask him to hang out too, like he’d been meaning to for God knows how long.

Kihyun silently thanks his three-weeks-ago self for forgetting to have that meeting with his manager about skipping out on music shows.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. >_

The van is quiet besides the noise coming from Minhyuk’s phone. He’s playing a game.

They’d just finished filming for Weekly Idol. Promotions were really piling up this time. Kihyun usually didn’t have the energy to be annoyed these days, but today he is. And he knows the reason but doesn’t want to admit to it.

He breaks the silence. “I still don’t get why you picked me, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk looks up curiously. His eyes are round, like those of a doe. He laughs. “It wasn’t that serious, Kihyun.”

“Can you just tell me why, though? Why we wouldn’t be close if we weren’t in a group together?” Kihyun complains.

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“You’re annoying, you won’t answer my question.”

Minhyuk sighs. He drops his phone to his lap. “It’s like—it’s hard to explain. Do you remember what you said when we first met?”

“Dunno,” Kihyun shrugs. He picks at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. It was forever ago.

Minhyuk huffs. “You _said_ ‘let’s debut together.’ You seriously don’t remember that?”

Kihyun rifles through his memories. It’s vague, it’s dim, but it’s there.

“Kinda,” he says. He chews on his lip.

“Well, like. I just think that was an important moment, you know, in the universe.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“ _Kihyun_ ,” Minhyuk says. He’s acting like this conversation is the most obvious thing in the world. Kihyun’s oblivious. “It was a _moment_. That’s when I knew we were gonna be best friends.”

Kihyun ponders. “That’s dumb,” he finally says. “How would you already know we were gonna be best friends? It was a five second conversation.”

“Do you believe in fate, Kihyun?”

Kihyun shrugs. He’s never really thought about it.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “You’re so boring. Anyways, that moment was totally fate. Like, you said that, and then we actually debuted together! Just like you said! That’s fate.”

“I still don’t get why you picked me. For that question.”

“ _Because_ , Kihyun. Imagine if we never had that moment. Then we wouldn’t be best friends. And we would’ve never had that moment if we weren’t training to be in a group together. You know? Our fates _definitely_ aligned,” Minhyuk’s saying it so casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

“That’s not how it works.”

“You have the worst imagination.”

Kihyun blinks. He doesn’t know what else to say. He’s not even sure why he brought it up in the first place.

He rolls down the window, letting the sweltering summer air consume the inside of the van. He takes comfort in the warmth, and in the fact maybe, just maybe, their fates _did_ align the moment they met. 

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

After promotions wind down, and October rolls its credits, Kihyun finds himself with nothing to do. Nothing to do, no one to see. So, he does what he always does—follow Jooheon around like a lost puppy.

Jooheon starts getting annoyed the third or fourth time he finds Kihyun freeloading in his studio. He’s got so much work to do for the new debuts, he doesn’t have the patience to be dealing with Kihyun being there 24/7 doing shit all. 

By the fifth time, Jooheon decides Kihyun needs to go home. He yanks Kihyun off the couch in their tiny studio and they head to Kihyun’s apartment. Jooheon needs a break, anyway.

As his solo career began taking off, Kihyun found himself with the privilege of being able to afford an upscale apartment located in a wealthy neighborhood. And he hates it. He hates his apartment. The curtains are too black, the marble countertop is too polished, the white gold finish on his bathroom mirror is too luxe, the king-sized bed is cold and empty. It’s almost downright gaudy and he hates it. As beautifully furnished and securely guarded as the place was, it just doesn’t feel like a _home._ It’s nothing like the dorms he used to live in with his bandmates, that’s for sure.

He’s lying on his couch, letting his head fall back onto the armrest, scrolling on his phone. He hates his couch, it’s too blue. Jooheon’s busying himself with the contents of Kihyun’s fridge.

“What if I redecorated the apartment?” Kihyun asks aimlessly. The blood is rushing to his head from laying almost upside down.

Jooheon snorts. “Do you even have the time for that?”

“I have time now,” Kihyun says. “And I have nothing better to do.”

“I know you have nothing better to do, that’s why I brought you back here so you have nothing better to do at _your_ place and not in the studio,” Jooheon says, inspecting a carton of milk that was most definitely expired. “Man, before you get to the furniture, I think you need to redecorate your fridge. The shit you have in here is gross.”

Kihyun sighs. “God, I know. Don’t eat anything in there, I haven’t cleaned it out for weeks.”

“That’s unlike you,” Jooheon says. He shuts the fridge and plops down on the couch beside Kihyun. Kihyun stretches his legs over Jooheon’s lap.

“It’s ‘cos I keep getting takeout instead of cooking,” Kihyun mumbles, dragging his palms down his face. “And then the leftovers get sent to the fucking black hole that is my fridge.”

“Dude, you love cooking though.”

“I know, but I haven’t been recently.”

Jooheon falls silent. The conversation feels somber suddenly, so he decides to change the topic. “Anyways, did you see what Hyungwon sent in the group chat? Are you gonna go?”

Kihyun groans. He _had_ seen what Hyungwon sent in the group chat. And it was weird, to say the least—it read more like a business email than anything.

“Yeah, I saw. Who plans a birthday party almost three fucking months in advance?” Kihyun says, sporting an almost scowl. “Also, the message was weird.” 

Jooheon laughs. “Some brand is paying for the whole thing, that’s probably why. Also, you _know_ if he gave you like, a reasonable amount of notice, you’d just say you were busy again.”

Kihyun sighs—he knows Jooheon’s right. He’s not sure for how long it’d been going on, but he’d been turning down parties and hang outs and everything in between for a while now. Kihyun would like to think that he’s simply gotten more introverted as he matured but the pathetic excuses he’s come up with to get out of attending these things are juvenile, at best. 

“It’s like some influencer event,” Kihyun complains. “I don’t wanna go to that shit. I’m a decaying millennial.”

“Hyungwon’s not an _influencer_ ,” Jooheon says. “I hate that word.” 

Kihyun makes a face. “Then what is he?”

To be honest, neither of them know what Hyungwon’s official job title is. All they know is that not too long after he decided against renewing his contract with Starship, Hyungwon’s Instagram feed was full of luxury brands, hanging out with celebrities Kihyun couldn’t believe Hyungwon knew, and CFs for things that Kihyun couldn’t even afford. His latest gig is brand ambassador for Givenchy. He’s still a DJ, he frequents a club that probably has some kind of sponsorship with him. You could find him anywhere—movie premieres, fashion week, award shows, you name it.

It never seemed like his scene because Hyungwon was, and still is, so quiet and soft spoken. Kihyun could never imagine him as someone ruthlessly climbing the social ladder but maybe that was just it—Hyungwon’s so sweet and polite he didn’t _have_ to be ruthless. He’s intelligent and amicable, so everyone loves him. People probably line up to open their wallets for him after one look at his handsome face. 

Kihyun thinks that if anyone deserved millions upon millions of followers, it’s Hyungwon. Not seeing him everyday anymore had left a weird feeling in Kihyun’s heart, but he knew Hyungwon was shining brighter than ever without Starship holding him back. 

The last time Kihyun took up one of Hyungwon’s party invitations was for the afterparty of the opening night of some movie Hyungwon was in last year. And the party was insane, for a multitude of reasons, so Kihyun decided he was _never_ going to do that again. He usually blamed his schedules to get out of Hyungwon’s parties, sometimes going as far as making up fake schedules just so he could stay home and pitifully watch TV. But that’s not an option this time, considering how far in advance the invitation was extended. There’s no way he couldn't clear up his schedule. 

“He’s... a jack of all trades,” Jooheon says, breaking Kihyun out of his thoughts. “Anyways, Kihyun, just come. It’s gonna be way smaller this time, I promise. You’re not gonna feel out of place.”

“Is Minhyuk going?” Kihyun finds himself asking. He hasn’t seen Minhyuk in a while.

“Probably not, he’s got Law of the Jungle to film around that time,” Jooheon says. “He’s on the next trip, did you hear?”

“Of course I heard.”

“Ah, I forgot you watch all of his variety shit like an obsessed little fanboy.”

“I’m not a _fanboy_.”

“Shall I call you by your official title then, president of the Lee Minhyuk fan club?”

“I’m a _supportive friend_.”

“ _Right_ ,” Jooheon says, a knowing smile on his lips. “Just tell me you’ll come to the party, please?”

“I’ll think about it,” is all Kihyun says after a beat of consideration. 

Eventually Jooheon pushes Kihyun’s legs off his lap, mutters something about getting back to work, and leaves Kihyun to get frostbite in his too cold apartment.

He flops onto his bed and stares at his phone. The piercing light from his phone is the only light in his room. It’s burning his eyes.

_11:46 p.m.  
Saturday, November 2. _

The group chat will soon be alive with happy birthdays and ‘I love you’s, just like every year.

_12:00 a.m.  
Sunday, November 3._

Changkyun is the first one to break the silence in the group chat, as if his thumb was hovering over the send button so he could be the first one to wish Minhyuk a happy birthday, right at midnight on the dot. Jooheon joins in soon after with a near novel of a birthday wish. Hyungwon sends a picture of Minhyuk sleeping on a couch—whose couch, Kihyun isn’t sure—with his lips parted and hair fanning out onto the leather like a halo. Minhyuk finally responds with a string of crying faces and heart emojis. The messages make Kihyun giggle. He knows Minhyuk is being genuine.

It’s been a few minutes and Kihyun realizes he hasn’t said anything yet, despite having the chat open.

Hesitantly, he skips past the group chat and finds his way to his private messages with Minhyuk. It’s been embarrassingly long since the last time they spoke. Kihyun can practically see a thin layer of dust collecting on their message thread. 

He’s not sure why he feels the need to message Minhyuk privately instead of in the group chat like they usually do for birthdays, but he tries not to think about it too much and just hit send. 

**Yoo Kihyun  
** 12:23 a.m. _  
hi minhyuk  
happy birthday!!!!!!!_

12:25 a.m. _  
i miss you_

Kihyun’s holding his breath. 

**Lee Minhyuk  
** 12:26 a.m.  
 _omg... is that... yoo kihyun?!?  
thank u hehe _❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️  
 _i miss u too :(  
we haven;t been able to talk in ages its crazy_

His heart hurts. He feels undeserving to have Minhyuk talking to him like nothing’s changed, like it hadn’t been months since he last messaged him. But he’s grateful.

 **Lee Minhyuk  
** 12:27 a.m.  
 _we should hang out soon!!  
u know  
before i fuck off to the jungle to film lotj  
wait did i tell u abt that yet_

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 12:30 a.m. _  
we should  
and yeah, i saw lol it was all over naver  
people are excited for it_

12:31 a.m.  
 _i’m really proud of you minhyuk_

12:32 a.m.  
 _..._  
 _i’m only saying that bc its your birthday btw  
  
_

 **Lee Minhyuk  
** 12:33 a.m.  
 _omg so gross lol  
ily i guess _🙄

Kihyun can’t help but smile.

Kihyun lays against his cold mattress with his phone resting on his chest. The popcorn ceiling looks very interesting right this moment, Kihyun thinks. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, Kihyun has a good night’s sleep, like his mattress is finally starting to thaw.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. x4. >_

“Someone count to three already, I’m about to blow out these candles myself,” Hoseok laughs.

“It’s not even _your_ birthday!” Jooheon whines.

Minhyuk envelopes Kihyun’s hand in both of his. He gives Kihyun’s hand a squeeze. Kihyun watches the wax slowly drip down the candles, into the cake. 

“One, two, three,” Hyunwoo says, giggling. He covers Hoseok’s mouth to stop him from blowing out the candles.

Kihyun looks over. The soft glow from the birthday candles is the only light in the room, but Minhyuk still looks beautiful. 

They blow out the candles. 

“We should combine your birthdays more often,” Changkyun jokes. He sticks a finger into the cake frosting. 

Hyungwon gives him a light punch in the arm. “Keep saying that and they’ll combine our birthdays, too.”

Kihyun laughs.

“Did you wish for something?” Minhyuk asks. His eyes are soft.

“Yeah,” Kihyun says. His cheeks heat up suddenly. He decides it’s probably from the heat of the birthday candles. Or maybe from running through the Spotlight choreography too many times. It must be one of those.

“Me too,” Minhyuk says. He rests his chin on Kihyun’s shoulder. The warmth hasn’t left Kihyun’s cheeks.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. >_

“Kihyun, do you know what day it is?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun lifts an eyebrow. “Are you fucking with me?”

“Just answer the question.”

“It’s New Year’s, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk’s sprawled out on the couch. He looks like an overgrown starfish. His head rests in Kihyun’s lap. Kihyun’s just trying to watch TV. He’s finally found time to catch up on his new favourite drama.

“It’ll be January 2nd in a couple hours, though.”

“Yes... I know that.”

“You know what sucks though?” Minhyuk says. “We always have some stupid broadcast on New Year’s Eve. We never get to have our _own_ countdown, you know?”

Kihyun sighs. His eyes are still glued on the screen.

“I wish we could countdown to New Year’s with just us, you know,” Minhyuk continues. He restlessly gestures with his hands. “Just the members. And not have it broadcast on national television.”

“Well, it’s already the new year. We’re too late for that.” 

Minhyuk sits up suddenly. Kihyun can almost see a lightbulb clicking on above Minhyuk’s head in his peripheral vision.

“I have an idea,” Minhyuk says.

“Lord have mercy.”

Minhyuk’s idea is to have New Year’s again. To pretend it’s December 31st again. To pretend the seconds leading up to January 2nd are the seconds leading up to New Year’s Day. 

Kihyun’s not sure why he’s helping Minhyuk decorate the kitchen with streamers and balloons after calling the idea dumb. 

Hyunwoo’s standing up on the couch, ready to release a handful of confetti. Hoseok turns the TV back on, convinced that there’s a fireworks channel. The front door opens, Jooheon’s back from the convenience store with liquor.

“Kihyun,” Minhyuk coos. Kihyun looks over from the balloon he’s tying into a knot. “Won’t you be my New Year’s kiss?”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. Minhyuk’s making a kissy face.

_Five, four, three, two, one._

Minhyuk’s lips taste like convenience store beer. Kihyun wonders how special this occasion is to Minhyuk if he’s willing to have a drink. 

Minhyuk’s lips are a little chapped, but Kihyun doesn’t mind.

It’s sweet, it’s short. It’s a good start to the year, Kihyun thinks. It’s the first of many.

When Kihyun pulls away, he sees the light from the TV fireworks flickering across Minhyuk’s face. He looks beautiful.

There’s a breeze wandering in from a forgotten open window. The alcohol is turning Kihyun’s cheeks pink. Or maybe it’s Minhyuk’s body heat. Either way, Kihyun’s skin doesn’t feel cold against the perennial sting of January air. 

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

Kihyun tightens his grips around the thread of the gift bag, suddenly feeling insecure about the gift he’d chosen for Hyungwon. It’s hard to shop for someone who seems to get free shit from every designer brand under the sun. Kihyun had settled on a Patek Philippe watch, mostly because it’s a brand he couldn’t find already promoted on Hyungwon’s Instagram somewhere. Kihyun worries it’s worth next to nothing to someone who owns several _custom_ luxury watches. 

“Look who finally decided to show his face,” Hyungwon laughs. He’s jogging up to Kihyun and Jooheon. Hyungwon wraps Kihyun into a quick hug, and Kihyun feels relieved. Hyungwon’s embrace hasn’t changed since the last time they saw each other, or at all, really.

“It took a lot of convincing,” Jooheon says, which lands him a punch in the arm from Kihyun. 

Hyungwon leads them inside, the cold winter air slicing off as the door shuts behind them. It takes a second for Kihyun’s eyes to adjust from the blinding snowfall outside to the dimly lit club. It’s the same club Hyungwon usually DJs at, but tonight it’s reserved for Hyungwon’s party. Kihyun sees a logo of a brand name on the backdrop behind the stage. He can’t even pronounce the name, it’s something foreign. 

“By the way, they supposedly have a ‘special’ tonight,” Hyungwon says, throwing air quotes around the word ‘special.’ “But the bartenders here always suck ass. Special drinks are not recommended unless you’re trying to get shitfaced.”

Jooheon nods and lets Hyungwon disappear into another group of people, people Kihyun doesn’t know. He’s thankful Jooheon stays by his side.

Kihyun peers around the room. Of the seven of them, he already knows Minhyuk isn’t going to be here. But after a quick headcount, he realizes someone else is missing, too.

“Where’s Changkyun? I thought he was coming,” Kihyun asks after spotting the rest of his former bandmates. He helps himself to a drink just to find out Hyungwon was right, the bartenders here _do_ suck ass.

“In LA,” Jooheon says, nursing his own shitty drink.

Kihyun blinks. “Doing what?”

“Man, don’t even get me started,” Jooheon shakes his head. “He wouldn’t tell me, said it’s a secret project. Like, what the hell? I’m his best friend!”

“I thought _I_ was your best friend now,” Kihyun pouts.

“You’re more like a pet,” Jooheon says with a smirk, prompting Kihyun to scowl. 

Hyungwon’s party doesn’t end up nearly as bad as Kihyun expects it to be. There are less people than what he was expecting, and less strangers too. In fact, the party isn’t bad at all, but subconsciously, Kihyun’s trying not to enjoy himself _too_ much just to avoid an ‘I told you so’ from Jooheon. 

And seeing Hyungwon again isn’t nearly as scary as Kihyun made it out to be in his head. When Hyungwon finds his way back to Kihyun in the crowd, it takes Kihyun a few moments to find his footing, but soon enough they end up bickering and poking fun at each other just like the old days. If Kihyun worries he’s biting too hard, Hyungwon just bites back harder. He wonders when Hyungwon turned into such an extrovert, but it’s in a good way—Hyungwon’s glowing with confidence. Funny enough, Hyungwon’s demeanour is a spitting image of how Kihyun was in his early twenties. It makes Kihyun nostalgic.

Despite the taste, Kihyun helps himself to another one of the special drinks, and then a few more. The liquid burns cold against his throat, and it feels like shit, but he hopes maybe if he has enough, he’ll stop overthinking everything and just enjoy himself for once.

And it works. Kihyun’s head remains empty of coherent thoughts—at least until the next morning when he’s rubbing his eyes too hard and sorting through his notifications.

 **New Voicemail  
Lee Minhyuk  
**2:46 a.m.  
 _Kihyun? Are you okay? You left me a really weird voicemail. Are you drunk? I could barely understand what you were saying. So yeah. Um. Call me back? If you need anything. Okay. Bye._

Kihyun’s eyes widen in horror. His thumb flies across the screen before he can think twice about it. His heart pounds, the robotic voice emitting from his phone rings in his ears. _Message deleted._

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

The comeback keeps getting pushed back, which should be a bad thing. But honestly, Kihyun feels relieved. After convincing himself that the last one was a complete fail on his part, the extra time to prepare serves him well.

The cherry blossoms are in bloom by the time Kihyun finds himself with enough decent songs written to bring to Jooheon, for them to finish together. 

Which is why when Kihyun comes into work with his guitar case on his back and flings open the studio door on the afternoon of their first session to find—well, _not_ Jooheon there, he nearly jumps out of his skin in surprise.

Kihyun’s eyes widen and he tries to will away the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks.

Changkyun is laying on the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, staring up at the ceiling. He’s switched Jooheon’s colour changing lights—an unnecessary purchase, in Kihyun’s opinion—to purple. 

“Um. Hi,” Kihyun says, slowing closing the door behind him. “Where’s Jooheon?”

Changkyun sits up and looks directly into Kihyun’s eyes. “Dude, this is the first time you’ve seen me since I got back from LA, and that’s how you greet me?” 

Kihyun blinks. 

“Sorry Changkyun, I was just,” Kihyun sputters. “I was surprised. Jooheon was supposed to be here, we were gonna work on music.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now get over here.”

Changkyun stands up, and gives Kihyun a clumsy hug.

“I missed you too,” Changkyun says jokingly mid-hug, despite Kihyun’s silence. Kihyun stands there stiffly, waiting for it to be over.

The whole thing is so awkward, and Kihyun feels guilty for feeling that way. He just hates surprises. He likes approaching things knowing what to expect and knowing that he’s prepared.

“So,” Kihyun starts, hoping his cheeks aren’t still red from the exchange. “What are you doing here?”

“Jooheon is sick. But more importantly, he is a dumbass,” Changkyun announces, retreating back to the couch. “So, he sent me. He was like, ‘Kihyun won’t even notice the difference.’ But I think you noticed.”

“Oh, god,” Kihyun realizes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sets down his guitar case and slumps in a computer chair across from Changkyun. “He went to that shady restaurant on a few streets over from here again, didn’t he?”

“Ding, ding, ding, you guessed it,” Changkyun says. “I swear, it’s like he’s willing to die for a good dumpling.”

Kihyun snorts. “He literally will if he keeps eating there,” he says. “That place has gotta have like, a hundred different health code violations.”

“I think he just likes it ‘cos it’s cheap,” Changkyun laughs. 

“Which is exactly why he’s a dumbass. He’s fucking rich, there’s no reason for him to be eating at that shithole,” Kihyun says. Changkyun laughs again. The air feels lighter already, Kihyun quickly forgetting the awkwardness of a few moments ago.

Changkyun pulls up a chair beside Kihyun and opens his laptop. Before they know it, they fall back into a comfortable rhythm. It’s one that’s not quite the same as their boy group days, but familiar enough to get through the writing session. 

Changkyun dusts off a Logic file that he’s pulled from the depths of his laptop and plays it for Kihyun. Kihyun scrunches his nose. The beat is far too brash for his rustic singer-songwriter image.

“Come on, Kihyun!” Changkyun whines, shoving his hands at the screen. “This is so forward-thinking. Your fans will never see it coming!”

Kihyun’s eyebrows crease. “Yeah, in a bad way, Changkyun. They’re gonna think I’ve lost my mind.”

“Okay, fine, don’t use for your album. But,” Changkyun says. “There’s another project you could use it for.”

The confusion must be written on Kihyun’s face, so Changkyun continues. “Jooheon keeps telling me you guys wanna bring back 2Chain. Like, officially.”

A glint of something—probably fondness—flickers in Kihyun’s eyes. It was true, he and Jooheon had been talking about 2Chain again, mostly reminiscing on how fun it had been to make music together back when the group was still together. They’d barely released anything, just a couple covers and songs here and there, but those were the times Kihyun now looks back on the most. 

But now, in the present, Kihyun thinks he’s maybe started getting tired of being an idol. He thinks back to his last promotion cycle—and if he’s being honest with himself, the last few promotion cycles before that, too—as an unpleasant mix of singing songs he hated, being at events he didn’t want to be at, and coming home to his shitty apartment to get barely enough sleep. Honestly, the only silver lining during that whole month had been getting to see Hoseok everyday. And as much as he loves Hoseok, it’s not nearly enough to make Kihyun want to do it all over again for this next album, too.

Kihyun envies the way Jooheon can still work on music, still have time for himself, and most importantly, not have to deal with being in the public eye anymore. Jooheon takes on musical passion projects all time, but has no pressure to release anything the way Kihyun does. So, he doesn’t, not unless he really wants to. It must be nice, Kihyun thinks, to just write music for the sake of writing music. Not to sell, but just for the love of the art. 

Which is why he’d decided to approach Jooheon with the idea of making a few songs for a 2Chain revival side project. Jooheon was ecstatic, to the point of wishing he’d come up with the idea himself. Kihyun made the mistake of getting excited about it before discussing it with his management—who of course, turned him down.

“It was my idea,” Kihyun mumbles, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Company says it’s dumb, though. ‘Cos 2Chain is like, r&b, which is nothing like my music, so they think it’s gonna be confusing for the fans if I randomly change my sound.”

“Your fans aren’t _that_ stupid,” Changkyun says. “Are they?”

Kihyun chuckles dryly. “No, but my fucking managers are,” he says. “Plus, they know Jooheon’s not gonna wanna promote or do stupid idol shit for it, you know?”

Changkyun nods knowingly, a wistful glint in his eye. “His on-camera aegyo days are long gone.”

“Jooheon was really excited about the idea, though,” Kihyun sighs, resting his head against the back of the chair. “And I wish I could do it. But if I do, then I gotta do it the Starship way. And if I do that, then they’re gonna make us look like total idiots. It’d be such a bad look for what’s supposed to be a chill r&b side project, you know? I’d rather keep what’s left of my dignity.”

Changkyun pats Kihyun on the back. “I know what you mean. I’m still saving these beats for 2Chain, though. Just in case.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Kihyun mutters.

There’s a buzzing coming from the desk in front of them, cutting their conversation short. It’s Kihyun’s phone lighting up. 

**Chae Hyungwon  
** 3:14 p.m.  
 _come to gwangju with me next month_

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 3:15 p.m. _  
???  
why_

 **Chae Hyungwon  
** 3:15 p.m.  
 _bc i’m going and i need a sidekick_

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 3:15 p.m. _  
...  
i’m not your side kick_

 **Chae Hyungwon  
** 3:16 p.m.  
 _just come  
i’m visiting minhyuk  
also i already asked your manager and you’re free that weekend so_

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 3:17 p.m. _  
minhyuk’s in gwangju rn??  
also fuck you_

 **Chae Hyungwon  
** 3:17 p.m.  
 _yes lmao?  
he’s been there for like a month already wym  
anyways great we’re leaving on the 9th_

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 3:21 p.m. _  
what?????_

And just like that, the conversation ends. Whether Kihyun likes it or not, he’s somehow agreed to a trip to Gwangju on the 9th of May with Hyungwon. To see Minhyuk.

Kihyun’s daze is startled back to reality when he hears Changkyun blast a punchy drum loop over the studio speakers.

“Hey, turn that shit down for a second,” Kihyun says.

“This is a good beat, Kihyun. I even toned it down like you asked!” Changkyun whines.

Kihyun waves his hand, dismissing Changkyun’s complaints. “Forget that. Have you heard from Minhyuk recently?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Did you know he went to Gwangju?”

Changkyun lifts an eyebrow and looks around the room as if he’s just realized he’s in the middle of a hidden camera prank. “What? That happened weeks ago.”

Kihyun isn’t sure what to think. Minhyuk had been in Gwangju for weeks, a month even, and Kihyun had been none the wiser. It’s not exactly best friend behaviour.

“Why’s he there?”

“Well. He’s taking a break, like, indefinitely? So, he went back home,” Changkyun says. “I didn’t wanna pry for details, so that’s all I know. But, like, you didn’t know about _any_ of that?”

Kihyun shakes his head.

Changkyun snorts. “You guys are so weird.”

It _is_ weird, Kihyun thinks. It’s weird and embarrassing, that Kihyun does, pathetically, keep up to date with Minhyuk’s activities the way a fan would, and yet seems to be so out of the loop with Minhyuk’s life that he didn’t even know Minhyuk had basically upped and moved away to a different city.

Kihyun slips off his chair and takes his guitar out of its case just to give himself something to do. His bangs are sticking to his forehead. He lets out a puff of air to blow them out of his face and starts to strum, the strings feeling cold against his touch. He barely registers Changkyun chattering on about another track he’s pulled up, with a beat equally as jarring as the last.

_< pause >  
< rewind >_

It’s a cold day in Seoul. Kihyun hates the rain.

A ballpoint pen gliding against paper is barely heard over the sound of a chair scraping against tile and the shout of an irrationally upset voice. 

Minhyuk uses too much force when he swings the meeting room door open. His strides are too long and too fast. Kihyun can’t keep up.

“Kihyun, you need to calm down. You were making a scene,” Minhyuk’s trying to keep his tone at bay. He’s doing a decent job.

“Because you’re giving up,” Kihyun’s voice is sharp, it cuts the air. 

“I’m not giving up, Kihyun. I need to move on from this,” Minhyuk says. He stops walking, he’s facing Kihyun. “They’re holding me back.”

“This is supposed to be your dream, Minhyuk. It’s _our_ dream,” Kihyun wants to sound sure of himself. It comes out more like a whimper.

“Kihyun, do you know how many offers I have lined up? How many companies are already promising to do more than Starship ever did?” Minhyuk says. To hell with having a civil conversation.

“What about the team?” Kihyun feels a lump in his throat. He can’t swallow it back down.

“This company doesn’t give a fuck about the team anymore and you know that. We haven’t even had a comeback in over a year,” Minhyuk runs a hand through his hair. His movements are sharp.

Kihyun’s silent. Tears are pooling in his eyes. He’s usually not like this. He’s usually better at controlling his emotions. He’d be poised in front of anyone else. But he’s not in front of just anyone, he’s in front of Minhyuk.

“Why aren’t you lecturing Hyungwon about this? He didn’t renew his contract either,” Minhyuk presses. He’s stepped closer. His glare has an intensity Kihyun’s never seen from him before.

“Minhyuk, I—”

“You’re okay with him succeeding but not me?”

“It’s not like that. That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” Kihyun’s upset now. He’s raising his voice. His words are being twisted.

“Then what is it like?”

“Fuck you, Minhyuk. You don’t even understand,” Kihyun tastes blood. He knows the taste won’t go away even if he tries to spit it out.

“Fuck you too, then.”

Kihyun watches as Minhyuk turns around and walks away, not stopping until he’s out in the rain. Once he’s disappeared into the storm, Kihyun’s sobs finally choke out.

The company halls feel colder after that day, without Minhyuk roaming about in them anymore.

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

The drive to Gwangju isn’t supposed to be that long, it’s just a couple hours, but to Kihyun, it feels like an eternity. Time seems to be passing at an excruciatingly slow rate, but he decides the longer it takes to see Minhyuk again, the better. For his sanity.

Kihyun hands are sweaty against the steering wheel. He rolls down the window, letting the viscous summer air enter the car. Hyungwon’s in the passenger seat beside him, typing away on his phone.

“I can’t believe you, Hyungwon,” Kihyun says. “When you said you’ll be at my house at nine, I thought that meant _you_ were gonna drive.”

Hyungwon shrugs. “Just think of this as you making up for all the times I had to drive your ass to places before you got your license.”

Kihyun tries to shake away the image of Hyungwon pulling up in front of Kihyun’s apartment complex that morning, suitcase in hand, Uber speeding away from behind him, too early on a Friday. He tries to focus on the road, his eyes are fading in and out of focus.

“Why did you waste money on an Uber to my house if you were gonna make _me_ drive,” Kihyun says. “Like, I could’ve just picked you up. You make no sense.”

“Because I know you, and I know you’d only drive us if I gave you no choice,” Hyungwon says. He snorts when Kihyun furrows his eyebrows.

“I hate you.”

“Shut up, I already told you I’ll pay for gas.”

Kihyun groans. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

Hyungwon pockets his phone and turns to Kihyun. Kihyun feels Hyungwon’s gaze on him, wanting to swat it away like it’s a fly.

“So,” Hyungwon starts. “Wanna tell me why you’re so grumpy this morning?”

“I slept like shit last night,” Kihyun says with a sigh. 

Hyungwon snorts. Kihyun ignores it and continues, “I don’t know why I just—I feel so? Weird? About seeing Minhyuk again.”

“What? You see him all the time,” Hyungwon says, eyebrows creasing.

“Okay but, not for _real_.”

“I’m not following.”

There’s a red light up ahead. Kihyun reminds himself to slow to a stop, reminds himself that he’s still driving right now.

“I mean like—it’s been really fucking awkward the last few times we saw each other,” Kihyun says, hands falling slack against the steering wheel. “Remember when me and Minhyuk got into that huge fight?”

Hyungwon’s nodding in Kihyun’s peripheral vision. That huge fight—Kihyun doesn’t even need to name it for Hyungwon to know. Hyungwon had been there to witness it, along with the other members. It’s the only time Kihyun and Minhyuk had fought in a friendship-threatening way.

“It’s literally been awkward since then,” Kihyun says.

“First of all, it’s probably only awkward to _you_ because _you’re_ awkward. Second, it’s been what, two years since that fight? Almost three?” Hyungwon says. “You’ve really been holding a grudge for that fucking long?”

“No, but Minhyuk has.”

Hyungwon’s face is struck with disbelief. Once it seemed like what Kihyun said had sunk in, he squints. “Kihyun, are you stupid? Minhyuk doesn’t hold grudges. You of all people should know that being petty and then forgetting about it a week later is as far as he can go.”

“It was a big fight,” Kihyun says quietly.

“And it was like three years ago,” Hyungwon says, rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t even know how you guys managed to avoid talking about it for three whole years.”

“It was all so fast, and everything’s been busy since then. Like, I’ve barely talked to you either, Hyungwon. You guys moved out like the next day. Minhyuk was pretty much booked and busy before the door even shut behind him,” Kihyun says, his tone a mix of sadness and bitterness. “Plus, Starship was pushing for me to have my debut like, as soon as possible. We didn’t have time to deal with it, so I’ve just been pretending it never happened. And I think Minhyuk’s doing the same? I mean, I guess I dunno how he really feels.”

“Well... I can tell you Minhyuk _isn’t_ holding a grudge against you. That’s literally impossible,” Hyungwon says. He pulls his phone out again, plugging in the aux cord. He puts on a song Kihyun’s never heard, by a band Kihyun’s never heard of either. 

The conversation is over, Kihyun supposes. He coasts along the highway, grateful that it’s mostly empty, letting thoughts of Minhyuk cloud his head.

Kihyun’s barely sure of what year it is when he’s making the turn onto Minhyuk’s street. He’s surprised he even managed to get them there in one piece. He turns off the car in a daze, watching through the side-view mirror as Hyungwon jogs to the trunk to grab their suitcases. Kihyun stays in the car for a moment longer, eyes boring into the steering wheel in front of him. The thoughts from the highway and his conversation with Hyungwon at the beginning of their drive rush back again.

It’d been a while since he last saw Minhyuk in person. They’d seen each other here and there in fleeting moments: at events they were both scheduled to attend, at parties Kihyun couldn’t weasel his way out of skipping, at friends’ houses not really making eye contact for longer than a second or having a real conversation. They were friendly exchanges, with genuine smiles and hugs and being happy to see each other, but always leaving Kihyun to feel like something was missing. 

It’d been a while since he last talked to Minhyuk, too. The last time they’d spoken, like really spoken, was way too long ago. The last conversation—which was barely a conversation, it just a few exchanged texts—was probably on Minhyuk’s most recent birthday. Kihyun doesn’t want to sift through his messages to check. It’s embarrassing. Kihyun didn’t even dare to tell Minhyuk himself that he was tagging alongside Hyungwon to pay a visit, letting Hyungwon do it for him. It’s embarrassing, it’s all so embarrassing. 

Kihyun wills himself out of his thoughts and pushes open the car door, awkwardly trailing behind Hyungwon. He grabs his bag and stops at the curb.

_< pause >_

He’s nervous. 

Honestly, Kihyun has no fucking idea what he’s doing, standing on a cobblestone walkway in Gwangju outside of Minhyuk’s family home. Hyungwon is a few steps ahead of him, the wheels of his suitcase clattering against the road.

He shouldn’t be this nervous. Minhyuk is still his best friend, right? At least, they’re supposed to be best friends. He doesn't know if Minhyuk will have him, even though he already knows Kihyun will be there.

Kihyun wonders how he got to this point. How many unheard voicemails, ignored texts, and declined invitations it took to bring him here, just a few steps away from Minhyuk’s porch. How it shouldn’t have taken all those things, that nothing should’ve kept them apart in the first place. How he shouldn’t have let himself drift away at all. How he shouldn’t have let his pride get in the way of staying by his best friend’s side.

In Kihyun’s head, he does everything right. But this is reality, where his missed calls list says otherwise.

Maybe it’s just him overthinking, but Kihyun can’t imagine Minhyuk opening the door and greeting him like nothing’s changed, but he hopes for it.

He takes a breath.

_< resume play >_

The door opens with a creak, silencing Kihyun’s whirring thoughts. He’s pulled towards the doorway by what feels like a divine magnetic force.

In this moment, Kihyun realizes that the act of seeing Minhyuk again is actually extremely uneventful and nothing like how Kihyun had been building up in his head for the entire drive from Seoul to Gwangju. It’s nothing more than a simple “Hi Hyungwon! Hi Kihyun!” as he smiles and offers to bring their bags up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Now that he thinks about it, Kihyun has no idea why he thought the moment was going to be so scary. It’s just Minhyuk.

Minhyuk’s mother gives them a smile from the kitchen and Kihyun tries his best to reciprocate but it probably comes out more like the baring teeth emoji. Kihyun doesn’t really know what that emoji means, but he does know that Minhyuk uses it all the time in the group chat.

Wordlessly, Kihyun goes up the spiraling staircase, reminding himself: left, right, left, right. The wood creaks under his feet.

There’s only one guest bedroom, because why would there be two, and there’s only one bed, because again, why would there be two. Kihyun stifles a groan—he’s not exactly looking forward to cuddling with Hyungwon that night.

The rest of the day seems to pass by against Kihyun’s will, with the three of them sitting in the living room talking and catching up—at least, that’s what Kihyun’s doing. Hyungwon and Minhyuk seem to be picking up on their conversation where it left off, and Kihyun trails along behind them, desperately trying to fall into step.

Hyungwon snaps a finger and points in Minhyuk’s direction. “Remember that guy that was obsessed with me a few years ago?”

“Inkigayo sandwich guy?” Minhyuk asks.

“Stop calling him that, it’s so cringey—and inaccurate ‘cos he didn’t give me his number in a _sandwich_ , it was—”

Minhyuk waves his hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah. What about him?”

“He’s marrying his _cousin_.”

“Oh my god.”

“And that’s not even the important part. He fucking invited me to the wedding,” Hyungwon says, grimacing.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Minhyuk says, eyes widening, hand reaching up to cover his mouth. “Are you gonna go?”

“Why would I? The guy’s fucking annoying.”

“If it were me, I’d definitely be going. It’s the perfect opportunity for chaos.”

Kihyun glances back and forth as if he’s watching a tennis match. He wracks his brain, and he might vaguely remember Minhyuk joking about Inkigayo sandwich guy a couple years ago. But Hyungwon always had a lot of people flirting with him at music shows—it could be anyone.

“Kihyun, what do you think?” Minhyuk says, snapping Kihyun’s focus back to their conversation.

Kihyun blinks. “About what?”

“Don’t you think Hyungwon should go to Inkigayo sandwich guy’s wedding to show him what he’s missing out on?” Minhyuk says.

“Kihyun, tell him I can’t do that,” Hyungwon says. “’Cos it might actually work. And I actually feel bad for his cousin. I’m pretty sure he’s marrying her in attempts to pray the gay away.”

“Uh, yeah,” Kihyun says. “What Hyungwon said.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “Come on, you guys are so boring.”

“If you wanna enable chaos, hit up Changkyun,” Kihyun says, staring off into space and absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “He’d actually do it.”

To Kihyun’s surprise, Minhyuk bursts out laughing at this, throwing his head back. Kihyun blushes.

“Oh my god,” Minhyuk says, head resting against the back of the couch. “Kihyun you’ve just given me the best idea—we’re gonna get _Changkyun_ to fuck with Inkigayo boy’s wedding—"

The sound of Minhyuk’s rambling fades into Kihyun’s peripheral. Kihyun shifts in his seat. He lets his friends continue on without him, replaying Minhyuk’s laugh over and over in his head.

Kihyun wonders why Minhyuk had moved back to Gwangju. He wants to ask, but can’t find a natural way to bring it up and into the conversation. At least, that’s what he tells himself, that it’s not the right time or place— but he’s not sure he’d have the courage, even if the opportunity presented itself.

_< tape skips >_

Saturday morning, Kihyun feels cold despite being wrapped up in the soft duvet in the guest bedroom. Hyungwon’s body heat had kept him warm throughout most of the night, but now he finds himself curling further into the mattress, searching for warmth. He feels something brushing against the tip of his nose, a tickle against his forehead. He thinks it’s remnants of the dream he’s just had, fragments of which are dissolving before he can even try to remember.

When he opens his eyes and sees yellow in his vision, accompanied by the smell of paper, he realizes it’s not a dream. There’s a post-it note stuck to his forehead. In his still half-asleep stupor, he brings his hand to his face and takes the post-it note in his clumsy grasp. Hyungwon’s familiar crowded handwriting is on the front of it.

_Had to go back to Seoul for a work emergency. Don’t worry, I didn’t steal your car. Minhyuk drove me to the train station. Don’t have too much fun without me this weekend.  
\- Hyungwon_

Kihyun stares at it for a moment before crumpling it in his fist. Of course, Hyungwon would find a way to ditch him after one day.

Of course, he’d be left alone with Minhyuk.

The house is quiet. Kihyun tries to listen for any signs of life but he gets nothing, not even from Minhyuk’s mother. He aggressively yanks the charging cord out of his phone, opens up his contacts list, and punches this thumb at Hyungwon’s name.

Hyungwon answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Fuck you.”

“Did you get my note?”

“Yes, I got your fucking note—you stuck it to my face.”

Hyungwon snorts on the other end of the line. “By the way, I bank transferred you gas money from yesterday. You’re welcome.”

Kihyun ignores this. “Work emergency, my ass. What, did you run out of your lifetime supply of Gucci shirts?”

“Fuck off, Kihyun. They’re gonna promote one of the Givenchy Korea ambassadors to global. I need to get my ass to this meeting if I even want a shot at being on the front page of their website, okay?”

“You can’t do that shit over the phone? Or wait ‘til you get back?”

“Fuck no. You think they’re gonna give the job to someone who can’t even be bothered to show up?”

“Well, what am I supposed to do here alone with Minhyuk?”

“You’re not alone. His mom is there, too.”

Kihyun hopes Hyungwon can feel his scowl, or his grip tightening around his phone through the radio waves. “You’re not helping.”

“You’re a big boy, you can figure it out. And you’d better hurry ‘cos Minhyuk’s probably gonna be home soon,” Hyungwon says. Suddenly, he starts making crackling noises. “Sorry, you’re breaking up. Train’s going through a tunnel.”

“I can’t believe you’re pulling that on me, Hyungwon,” Kihyun says, but he’s met with the beeping of an ended call before he can finish his sentence. “Hyungwon?”

With a sigh, Kihyun lets his phone fall from his grip, onto the mattress, and squeezes his eyes shut in hopes of getting some more sleep. But later, when Kihyun finally hears a key turning in lock of the front door, he realizes that he hadn’t willed himself to sleep at all.

He hears chatter downstairs, between Minhyuk and his mother, but Minhyuk’s voice is quickly getting louder. He must be coming upstairs. Kihyun lies stiffly on the bed, trying to fall back asleep, but it probably just looks like he’s playing dead.

Footsteps approach the doorway of the guest bedroom. Kihyun silently curses Hyungwon for leaving the door open, and then himself for not having the sense to close it before lying there lifelessly like an idiot.

“Kihyun, I’ve known you long enough to recognize your pretending-to-be-asleep-but-actually-awake act from a mile away,” Minhyuk says. “And you’re still absolutely terrible it at.”

Defeatedly, Kihyun rolls to his side to face Minhyuk. A third curse goes to Minhyuk for knowing him too well.

Minhyuk looks like he’s just gotten out of bed despite probably being awake for hours now and travelling to and from the train station—disheveled hair, white long sleeve shirt hanging comfortably on his body. A tattoo of a whale is peaking out beneath the hem of his shorts, but there are some other tattoos up the side of his leg, too. They’re new—at least, they’re new to Kihyun, he’s never seen them before. He wonders when Minhyuk got them, and a weird feeling blooms in his chest for not knowing about them in the first place.

In his fifty percent awake, fifty percent asleep, one hundred percent losing his mind state, Kihyun can only think to describe the way Minhyuk looks right now as _soft_. He’s clearly awake, but still wearing the softness of last night’s sleep. Kihyun swears his brain is short-circuiting.

“Anyways, get your ass up,” Minhyuk says. “On the way back here, I thought of the _perfect_ idea for what we should do today.”

_< tape skips >_

Minhyuk’s perfect idea is going to an escape room, something they loved to do years ago, and follow it up with a visit to a Thai restaurant that Minhyuk can’t seem to stop talking about. Escape room followed by dinner—they’ve probably had this exact itinerary on more than one occasion during their twenties.

Back then, they would’ve referred to this as a ‘dinner date’ but right now, the idea of putting ‘Minhyuk’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence, let alone the same thought, is too much for Kihyun to handle.

The dinner dates were a hobby for them, to regularly try out new restaurants together. Minhyuk would keep record of all of the restaurant names and their reviews of the food in a note on his phone. Part of the reason they were so excited to go on their first world tour was the endless selection of new restaurants to go to, now with the added bonus of world cuisine they couldn’t find in Korea.

Kihyun appreciates the memories of these dinner dates in the same way a movie buff appreciates old black and white movies. For some reason, the memory of their first time trying Chicago pizza is the one that sticks out the most. Kihyun can remember their reviews for that restaurant in an almost photographic sort of way.

_Holy shit this is what dreams are made of. Would eat this everyday for every meal for the rest of my life. 5/5. -Minhyuk_

_The wings were kinda salty. 3.5/5. -Kihyun_

_Kihyun has no taste. Don’t listen to him. -Minhyuk_

Kihyun wonders if Minhyuk would still have their grand restaurant archive note saved somewhere. It’s unlikely, since he’s probably gone through half a dozen phones since then, and their last dinner date was ages ago, but Kihyun can’t help wondering.

If that note does still exist somewhere in the universe, there’s no doubt Minhyuk already gave this new Thai restaurant a five out of five.

“Kihyun, I’m not even kidding. I would suck anyone’s dick for a lifetime supply of their pad thai,” Minhyuk says on the drive to the escape room. “Literally _anyone_.”

Kihyun scrunches his nose in disgust. “Please stop.”

“You know what? I’d even suck Kim Shidae’s dick. And I hate that stupid, ugly, bald son of a bitch with every fibre of my being.”

“He’s not bald,” Kihyun says, stifling a laugh.

“Only because I decided against shaving his head in his sleep, because I’m just that nice of a person.”

“Wow, you’re an absolute angel, aren’t you?” Kihyun says, his smile turning his eyes into crescents.

_< tape skips >_

The escape room Minhyuk excitedly chooses is in the theme of a dry sauna. Minhyuk had gotten the recommendation for this room from his younger brother, apparently, which just leaves Kihyun confused as to why he hadn’t seen or heard about Minhyuk’s younger brother the entire duration of this trip up until now. He’d have to ask Minhyuk about it later, he supposes.

While dropping off their belongings in the escape room lobby, Kihyun notices that the girl working the counter is unabashedly staring at Minhyuk. Kihyun isn’t sure if Minhyuk is oblivious to it or choosing to ignore her. She doesn’t end up saying anything, but Kihyun feels a bit invisible during the whole exchange, nonetheless.

The room turns out to be quite small, claustrophobia-inducing even. Against one wall resides a few rows of gym lockers, along with a chalkboard menu. On the other side, there are two small doors, one that opens to a kiln, and another that opens to another small room, the icebox.

Kihyun watches the introductory VCR with wide eyes and his jaw falling open, absorbing absolutely none of the information from it, but in awe regardless.

For the next hour, Kihyun ends up following Minhyuk around like a lost puppy, letting him do most of the work to complete the puzzles. This is usually how their escape room escapades went—Minhyuk supplies most of the brain power and Kihyun contributes with emotional support and lots of excited cheering. Kihyun blindly tries random combinations on the lockers, tries opening the kiln door through brute force instead of investigating its lock, and uses the telephone to ask for hints without realizing Minhyuk had already figured it out. He feels extremely accomplished when he deduces that the first character on each item on the menu actually spells out one of the locker combinations, and Minhyuk gives him a congratulatory high-five, even boasting about their teamwork to the staff when they finally escape the room. It’s like he doesn’t notice Kihyun contributed next to nothing, or maybe he just doesn’t mind.

When they return to the escape room lobby to grab their things, Kihyun can feel someone’s gaze on the back of his neck. But when he turns around, he finds the gaze isn’t actually meant for him, it’s meant for Minhyuk.

The girl behind the counter is staring again, looking like she might actually say something this time.

“Excuse me—I’m sorry. But are you Lee Minhyuk?” she asks, though it sounds more like a croak.

Minhyuk gives her a warm grin. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Oh my god, wow—I’m sorry. I’ve just—I’ve been wondering since you first walked in.”

“You’re a fan?”

“Of course! Who isn’t? I see you on TV all the time.”

Kihyun stands between them, shifting on his feet. The conversation he’s not part of feels like it’s taking up all the oxygen in the room.

Minhyuk moves closer to the counter, and Kihyun is relieved to no longer be awkwardly sandwiched between them. Counter girl busies Minhyuk with something to autograph.

“I really liked you on We Got Married. I’m so glad they brought that show back, me and my sister love it,” she says. “Wow… you’re even more handsome in person, I can’t believe it.”

At that, Kihyun decides maybe he’s not meant to be listening to this conversation. He preoccupies himself with grabbing Minhyuk’s wallet and phone, along with his own, from the cubbies.

It’s weird, comparing this experience with the last time they went to an escape room together. It was years ago, during their boy group days. And they’d met a fan then too, but she’d recognized _both_ of them.

But now, he feels eons away, so far removed from reality that he wonders if counter girl even saw him at all. Perhaps he was just passing through the room like a ghost, a burdensome interruption to a conversation between idol and fan. He wonders if she’d even recognize his name, or Monsta X’s name.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he feels Minhyuk’s hand on his back, leading him to the door. Kihyun glances once more over his shoulder on their way out. Counter girl isn’t looking, she’s admiring the paper Minhyuk had signed for her. She’s probably going to frame it and hang it up on the wall, to brag that such a famous celebrity had visited their establishment. It’d be like Kihyun was never there.

Kihyun barely has the chance to turn back around, barely has the chance to register the jingle that accompanies the door opening, as a voice shrieks out from in front of them, calling Minhyuk’s name.

There’s a group of people in the street in front of them—only maybe half a dozen but their close vicinity already has Kihyun feeling claustrophobic.

They’re fans. Minhyuk’s fans.

Kihyun fades behind Minhyuk, into the background, as Minhyuk greets them. Kihyun tunes out their words of admiration but is abruptly brought back into the moment by a flash of light. He could recognize it anywhere—it’s a camera. Minhyuk curses under his breath, meeting eyes with Kihyun, and they both know the photo is being uploaded already, and if they stick around in the area any longer, more fans will flock to them. Well, they’ll flock to Minhyuk.

In a silent agreement to just go back to the car instead of walking to the Thai restaurant Minhyuk had been raving about on the entire drive there, Kihyun finds himself feeling bitter. This was supposed to be their day together, followed by their post-escape-room dinner date.

Even in the peak of their boy group days, they’d never managed to draw a crowd if they went out in public, not even one like this which has a grand total of about five people.

But of all the thoughts and questions floating about in his head, the most prominent one has Kihyun wondering if he even knows Minhyuk at all.

Embarrassingly, he’d been keeping up with Minhyuk’s activities like he had nothing better to do. But even then, for Kihyun, Minhyuk is just his friend, his bandmate—or rather, a friend he doesn’t talk to as much as he should, his ex-bandmate. Minhyuk is just _Minhyuk_.

Maybe it’s not that simple anymore.

Minhyuk is so famous now, it’s unreal. Near the tail end of their days as a group, Minhyuk’s popularity had already begun rapidly increasing. Even before his contract with Starship ended, Minhyuk took matters into his own hands when it came to seeking out variety show appearances and networking in the industry. It landed him several contractual offers, and he built up an accomplished repertoire of TV credits in the process. It’s no surprise that this uphill ascent into stardom quickly turned into gravity-defying skyrocketing.

Maybe he’s not _just Minhyuk_ anymore. He’s not just Kihyun’s friend or Kihyun’s bandmate anymore. He’s not Kihyun’s Minhyuk—he’s Korea’s Minhyuk. And Kihyun’s never been keen on the concept of sharing.

Once Kihyun’s settled into the passenger seat and shutting the door, Minhyuk finally speaks, bringing Kihyun out of his spinning head and into the tangible world in front of him.

“I’m sorry for all the fuss back there,” he sighs. “People know I come to this part of town a lot—I should’ve thought of that first, fuck.”

“It’s okay.”

“And now we can’t go to that restaurant I was talking about,” Minhyuk whines.

“Seriously, Minhyuk, it’s okay.”

Minhyuk drags his hand to brush his hair back. He pulls the car out of the parking lot. It’s painfully silent.

Kihyun wants more than anything to lighten the mood. “Wow Minhyuk, you’re such a celebrity,” he teases.

“I’m sorry, I probably seem like such an ass right now. They’re my fans, I know, but like—I don’t even wanna think about how they figured out we were there. It’s been insane since I moved back here. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if one of them is like, hiding in my bushes, just waiting for me to leave the house.”

Kihyun laughs, trying to relieve the tension. “Minhyuk, it’s fine, I promise. And you’re not an ass.”

“Am I letting the fame get to me?” Minhyuk says, but it’s enveloped in the same teasing tone that Kihyun was sporting just moments ago.

“Oh, _absolutely_ ,” Kihyun giggles. Minhyuk laughs too, and their laughter makes the air feel lighter.

“You’d tell me if I was getting a big head, right?”

“Oh, I can see tomorrow’s headlines already—Korea’s sweetheart Lee Minhyuk hates his fans?!”

The silence is finally comfortable again, reminiscent of their usual dynamic.

“Let’s just go back home and get delivery, okay?” Minhyuk says, hands falling slack against the steering wheel, slowing to a stop in front of a red light. “What do you wanna get? You can pick.”

“Do you even have to ask?” Kihyun says. “Obviously, I want chicken.”

“Should’ve seen that coming. I don’t think there’s been a moment in your life where you _didn’t_ want chicken.”

Kihyun smiles up at him, and decides to find solace in the fact that perhaps right now, even if it’s exclusive to this one isolated moment, Minhyuk _is_ Kihyun’s Minhyuk, and no one else’s.

_< tape skips >_

Once they’ve safely arrived back home, Minhyuk wastes no time with placing their order. He doesn’t even need to ask Kihyun what to get—he already knows, and already knows the best place to order from, too. It’s a chain restaurant, so there’s one back in Seoul too. In classic Kihyun fashion, he’d given it a five out of five somewhere near the beginning of their restaurant reviews archive.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings, and Kihyun is left with the task of retrieving their food while Minhyuk is taking a shower.

Kihyun grabs Minhyuk’s wallet from the counter on his way to the door. It’s a new wallet, still with that new leather scent, feeling stiff against his touch. He flips it open, glancing over the too many cards Minhyuk has shoved into the slots—driver’s license, company key card, assorted gift cards. Kihyun lands his grip on Minhyuk’s black card, but then stops for a moment. The white corner of a polaroid sticks up in the furthest back slot, Kihyun pulls it out. From the tattered edges, to the fingerprints on the back, the fading ink—the polaroid’s definitely seen better days.

It’s a selfie of Kihyun, sporting curly brown hair and a white shirt, throwing up a peace sign. Kihyun blinks at it. He vaguely remembers taking this photo years ago.

What’s really weird is that it’s a new wallet, but the photo definitely isn’t. Why on earth does Minhyuk still have this—hell, why does he have it at all?

There isn’t time to question why Minhyuk keeps a six-year-old polaroid of Kihyun in his wallet because the delivery guy is standing at Minhyuk’s door, holding out a paper bag with their chicken, waiting for Kihyun to pay him.

Kihyun mutters something that resembles ‘thank you’ or maybe ‘have a nice day’ before shutting the door and mindlessly setting the bag on the countertop.

Polaroid still between Kihyun’s fingertips, he hears Minhyuk padding down the stairs. Kihyun looks up when Minhyuk ducks into the kitchen, towel lazily wrapped around his waist. His cheeks are flushed, probably from the warmth of the shower, and his hair sits soft on top of his head, half dry.

Kihyun looks away as soon as he catches himself staring, but he’s never had the fastest reflexes.

“Oh good, our food is here!” Minhyuk says, diving for the bag of fried chicken.

“First of all, Minhyuk, go put some clothes on,” Kihyun says, holding up his hand to block out the sight of Minhyuk’s unclothed torso. “Second of all, why do you have this picture of me in your wallet?”

“First of all, _Kihyun_ ,” Minhyuk says, mimicking Kihyun. “You’ve seen me naked like, a million times. At least my dick isn’t out this time.”

Kihyun closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. “Please don’t talk about your dick when we’re about to eat.”

Minhyuk smirks. “Second of all, I’ve had that since forever, don’t you remember?”

Kihyun does remember. It was one of the few polaroids he took during ISAC forever ago. He remembers giving the best one out of the batch to a staff member, and asked Minhyuk to keep this one in his wallet since he didn’t have his own wallet on him. He’d meant for Minhyuk just to hold onto it until they got home or something, not keep it for _six years_.

Kihyun feels his face warming up at the memory—he hopes it doesn’t show in the form of a pink tint across his cheeks, but it probably does.

“Yeah, I remember but—” Kihyun says. “I thought you gave it to Jooheon?”

“I did, but he thought I was giving it to him as a joke and tried to throw it out!” Minhyuk says, sounding offended at the memory. “So, I took it back from him.”

“Why would you do that? And why’d you keep it this long?”

“Come on, Kihyun. I couldn’t let Jooheon throw it away, it’s valuable! And I can’t throw it away either if that’s what you’re suggesting I should do. That would be like throwing _you_ away, and I’m not gonna do that.”

Kihyun wouldn’t be able to explain why the pink tint of his cheeks is now turning into a tomato red at Minhyuk’s words, even if he tried.

“Can you just hurry up and put on pants so we can eat this damn chicken.”

Minhyuk laughs, throwing his head back in the process. He runs up the stairs to his bedroom two steps at a time, leaving Kihyun to just stare down at the polaroid.

_< tape skips >_

Thankfully, Minhyuk suggests they watch a movie after they’ve finished eating—as expected, the food is the same five out of five experience Kihyun remembers it to be—and Kihyun is relieved knowing that at least his mind will be preoccupied with _something_ besides overthinking and potentially having a mental breakdown over Minhyuk, replaying the events of the day.

Minhyuk lazily browses through Netflix, resting his chin on his knee. Kihyun just silently waits until he picks something.

After what seems like an eternity, Minhyuk admits defeat. “I can’t decide. You pick, I’ll watch whatever.”

Kihyun takes the remote from Minhyuk and settles on a movie he’s seen maybe a hundred times: About Time.

It’s a safe choice, he pretty much has every word of every scene memorized, of both the English dialogue _and_ the Korean subtitles. He loves this movie, it’s always there for him when he’s had a bad day, or just doesn’t know what else to watch. And most of all, he just finds the whole thing so sweet and romantic.

“Seriously, Kihyun?” Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “I swear, this is the only movie you’ve ever seen. You’ve already made me watch this like, too many times.”

“You said I could pick!”

“Yeah, and I’m kinda regretting that now,” Minhyuk says, but it’s without bite, as he makes no effort to switch to something else. Instead, he settles further into the couch and curls into a ball.

Kihyun knows that it’s not like Minhyuk hates this movie—he actually likes it, not nearly as much as Kihyun does, but he enjoys it as much as the average person would—and it’s not that he doesn’t like rom-coms, either, because he absolutely loves them. It’s just the idea of watching the same movie five times a year for a decade isn’t exactly a decision Minhyuk gravitates to. He can only re-watch a movie so many times before growing tired of it.

But for Kihyun, he finds himself putting on this movie over and over again, especially in the last few years of his life. It’s a constant, despite all the changes around him, like an old friend that he actually managed to keep in touch with. It’s just a movie, but it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable.

And then there’s the plot. The idea of travelling back in time and correcting all your mistakes sounds extremely appealing to Kihyun. Or to be able to relive the best moments, over and over. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to be able to do either of those things.

About halfway into the movie, Minhyuk is letting his head fall onto Kihyun’s shoulder, and he’s frowning. “Doesn’t all the time-travel shit confuse you? I don’t know if this movie just has a million plot holes or if I’m just stupid,” he says.

“Dunno. I guess I don’t think about it. My brain is on autopilot when I watch this,” Kihyun says, keeping his tone as casual as possible, trying to ignore the weight on his shoulder.

“I seriously don’t get how you can watch a movie like, five thousand times, and not get sick of it.”

Kihyun giggles. “I think it’s not even about the movie itself anymore, I just like watching what I know. Plus, wouldn’t time-travel be the coolest power ever?”

“Oh, definitely,” Minhyuk agrees. “What would you go back to, if you could?”

“Like, to relive it, or to fix it?”

“Either one.”

Kihyun considers this. Maybe he’d go back to their first performance of Trespass and do a better job. Maybe he’d go back to their first win and be more emotionally composed. Maybe he’d relive his 24th birthday, or their fake New Years party, or another fond memory.

Maybe he’d go back to when he let Minhyuk storm out of the meeting room after a screaming match during what was supposed to be their contract renewals, and not fuck it up as bad this time. Truthfully, that was the real answer.

Minhyuk has taken his head off Kihyun’s shoulder now, and is now turning to face him, anticipating his answer. Kihyun can’t help but stare back. The light that’s cast from the TV is slowly disappearing into the backburner of his interest.

“I don’t know,” Kihyun finally says. It’s the only response he trusts himself to say without making the moment weird.

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “You’re so boring,” he laughs. “How crazy would it be to like, go back to the beginning and redo everything again.”

“The beginning?”

“Yeah, like, back to before we ever debuted.”

“Yeah… that would be crazy. But I don’t even know what I’d change,” Kihyun says, knowing it’s a lie. He looks down at his hands to avoid eye contact. The movie hums on in the background.

“Really? There’s a lot of things I’d change.”

Kihyun swallows. “Like what?”

“I honestly think I’d go back to the beginning and fix everything I fucked up,” Minhyuk says. “I know you shouldn’t live with regret and everything happens for a reason or whatever, but like—imagine getting a second chance at everything. Maybe in another universe I wouldn’t have ever signed my life away to Starship.”

“You wouldn’t?” Kihyun says, his eyes going wide.

“In _another_ universe, Kihyun,” Minhyuk reassures. “Not in this one. I’d still pick you, and the guys, and fucking Starship. Even if I had magical time-travelling regret-destroying superpowers.”

Kihyun’s heartbeat is rising up to his throat. Or maybe it’s bile. _I’d still pick you_.

“Anyways, the things I’d actually change—I think I’d do better for us, you know. And be less scared about us.”

Kihyun blinks. “Us?”

“Yeah, us. Like, I think we needed to be more definitive about it. That will-they won’t-they shit was so stupid. We were so ridiculous back then, Kihyun,” he’s shaking his head, saying it as if he’s talking about the weather.

“What are you saying.”

“We should’ve actually tried to make it happen instead of beating around the bush for like, seven years. Actually, it was longer than that, wasn’t it…”

Minhyuk’s voice trails off, presumably trying to do the mental math and failing.

Kihyun’s head is whirring with all sorts of images from the past decade and then some. The time Kihyun had cried when they were watching Titanic together, and Minhyuk let him cuddle up next to him, and didn’t let go even when he’d gotten snot on Minhyuk’s new shirt. The time Minhyuk attempted to make taiyaki and almost burned the house down because he didn't know the first thing about baking, but wanted to try anyway just because Kihyun liked it so much when they had it in Japan. The time Kihyun broke a rib before their huge, career-defining show at the Staples Center and Minhyuk came to visit him in the hospital, and kissed his forehead thinking he was still asleep. The time Kihyun had a one-night stand with some actor and Minhyuk didn't want to hear a word about it, for some reason. The time Minhyuk kissed him when they’d stepped off stage after one of their concerts—he doesn’t even remember which tour or which city, all he remembers is that he’d cried during the ending comments and Minhyuk comforted him, probably still high on adrenaline. The time Minhyuk kissed him for the first time on fake New Year’s, and every other trivial time he kissed him—it skips by like a supercut. At least, they _seemed_ trivial. But between the jump cuts, Kihyun thinks maybe they weren’t so trivial.

“What?” is all Kihyun manages to say. His mouth is probably hanging open, but he’s not even entirely sure, his whole face feels numb.

Minhyuk’s looking back at him with an unreadable, almost blank expression, blinking once.

“Don’t tell me you’re that oblivious, Kihyun,” Minhyuk says, raising an eyebrow. “I know I’m emotionally constipated when it comes to you but, like, I didn’t exactly hide it. I don’t think I even knew _how_ to hide it. Even if I never said anything.”

“I’m not, I just—” he starts, not knowing where he’s even taking this sentence. “I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you’d still want that, or even like, think about it? Definitely not to the point of considering hypothetically travelling back in time to make it happen.”

Minhyuk shrugs. “Is it really that surprising? You know me, Kihyun.”

It’s not, Kihyun supposes. Minhyuk’s the type of person to hold onto the things—and people—he loves forever.

Since they’re being honest, Kihyun figures it’s his turn to muster up the courage to say something useful. “I think if I were to go back in time… I wouldn’t have fought with you.”

Minhyuk smirks. “Ever?”

Kihyun’s lips curl into a small smile. “I don’t think that’s actually possible for us. I mean _the fight_. You know, when our contracts ended.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. For how I acted.”

It’s the first time since—well the first time ever, really—that The Fight has been brought up. Kihyun wrings his hands together, feeling nervous as he travels uncharted territory.

Minhyuk breaks the silence. “I was so mad at you, Kihyun. You bitched me out in front of all the company execs the entire meeting.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I still don’t get why you just, fucking exploded like that.”

Kihyun raises his eyebrows. “And you called _me_ oblivious? Come on, Minhyuk.”

Minhyuk crosses his arms. “Tell me, then.”

It’s frustrating. Kihyun had gone so long without vocalizing the reason, letting his pride block him off of doing so, and here Minhyuk was, trying to force it out of him. Why did it seem like Minhyuk knew everything about him, yet nothing at all at the same time?

“Obviously, I was afraid of losing you.”

To Kihyun’s surprise, Minhyuk scoffs at this. He glances back at the TV, to their long-forgotten movie.

“You were afraid of losing me so then you barely talked to me for like, three years?” Minhyuk says dryly.

It feels like a punch in the gut. Despite that, Kihyun’s pride is untouched.

“You can’t put that all on me. You barely talked to me either,” Kihyun says with a frown contorting his face. “And what did you expect? For me to be jumping for joy that you wanted to abandon our team?”

“What the fuck? I _abandoned_ you? Kihyun, you know better than anyone that I had shit I wanted to do that I couldn’t do while being under Starship, being played by Kim Shidae like a fucking puppet.”

“I thought I mattered to you, Minhyuk,” Kihyun says, clenching his fists. He’s practically fuming now. “More than money or whatever the fuck else.”

“Obviously, you do matter to me, dumbass. Are you saying I should’ve picked you over my career, when we both know that wasn’t even the question in the first place?” Minhyuk spits. “If anything, me leaving was a chance for us to actually make it work. We don’t have rules like that anymore.”

Logically, what Minhyuk’s saying makes perfect sense. Dating was a weird, sometimes unspoken subject during their boy group days. They all did it. Kihyun could count on one hand the number of serious relationships that had bloomed during their group’s entire career, as the members mostly settled for one-night stands and flings with other people in the industry. It was hard to find anything with substance when they had such demanding schedules. In a way, that was a good thing—it saved from awkward conversations with managers, or worse things like dating rumours and scandals.

But letting something happen between the members? That was beyond unspoken, it was a thing of radio silence. They didn’t need a manager or any higher-up to tell them that it was such a huge risk. It’d mess with the dynamic, probably fuck up friendships (between the two of them and between the rest of the members), and if it reached the public—Kihyun didn’t even want to think about what’d happen then. It was too overwhelming.

But now, there isn’t anything like that at stake. Logically, it all makes sense. But Kihyun is stubborn, and so, he doesn’t give up his defenses. “You’re not even trying to see it from my perspective.”

“Whatever, Kihyun. I’m tired of talking about this. I’m going to bed.”

“The movie isn’t even over yet,” Kihyun calls, but Minhyuk is getting up anyway, passing in front of him and soon, he’s storming up the stairs, two at a time. Kihyun flinches when he finally hears Minhyuk’s bedroom door slam shut, the wood creaking upon the impact.

He watches the rest of the movie alone, or at least tries to. His eyes are shifting in and out of focus, burning and glazed with unshed tears. When the credits roll, he just flops onto his side on the couch, too tired to go upstairs to the guest bedroom.

Kihyun squeezes his eyes shut, fragments of their argument playing on repeat in his head. The rational, objective side of him wants to remind himself that Minhyuk had overreacted, too. The whole thing is both of their faults, really. But at the same time, he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about being right anymore. He just wants this needless tension to end.

He lets himself wallow in his defeat, knowing he should’ve admitted to it sooner.

_< tape skips >_

It had been Kihyun’s plan to drive back to Seoul on Sunday, but he hadn’t planned on leaving first thing in the morning, nor had he planned on suffering through a stiff, sleepless night on the couch in Minhyuk’s living room.

It’s early enough that daylight is just barely peeking over the horizon. Minhyuk’s still asleep, so Kihyun decides to take this opportunity to pack his things in solitude. Lazily, he shoves his clothes and the rest of his belongings into his suitcase, probably forgetting things but not caring enough to double check. He just wants to be done with it as soon as possible.

By the time he trudges back down the stairs, dragging his suitcase behind him, Minhyuk’s mother is awake and in the kitchen. She’s leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Oh, Kihyun! You’re up early,” she says. She sets her mug down, looking surprised. “Leaving so soon? Minhyuk is still sleeping.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee,” Kihyun says, giving her a sheepish smile. “Yeah… I think I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Why would you think that?” she asks. She’s walked up to Kihyun now, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You know we love your company.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I gotta get back to Seoul anyway. You know, work and stuff.”

She gives Kihyun a soft smile. “Alright. I put your shoes in the coat closet.”

He gives her a farewell nod and heads to the closet. The coats meet him at eye level, and on the floor are his threadbare sneakers tucked in the corner. There’s something hanging on the closet rod at the end of the row of hangers: a navy-blue scarf with a stripe of red running along the hem on both ends alongside a row of fringe. Kihyun gapes at the sight.

That’s his scarf.

It’s a Louis Vuitton scarf that liked wearing six years ago, and ended up losing about three years ago. Kihyun could recognize the grey stitching spelling out the brand name like the back of his hand—it was his favourite scarf. At least, it was until he lost it.

For some reason, finding it again after all these years brings an ache to his chest. He has no idea how it ended up here. Had Minhyuk taken it? Had Kihyun left it here one day and forgotten about it?

Kihyun takes the scarf in his hands. The fabric isn’t as soft as he remembers. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. It’s just cold and dry, like the rest of the closet. He sighs and puts the scarf back where he found it, grabs his shoes, and forgets to close the door behind him.

_< tape skips >_

After spending a grand total of three minutes weaving his car through the residential area in which Minhyuk’s home is located, Kihyun realizes that he had stupidly left his phone back at the house. Of course, this would only happen to him.

Begrudgingly, he steers the car back to Minhyuk’s street. He hopes to God or whoever else is listening that Minhyuk hadn’t woken up yet. He doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing—leaving without saying goodbye or having to come back after attempting to do so.

And of course, when Kihyun comes back, it’s Minhyuk that answers the door. Of course, this would only happen to him.

Minhyuk doesn’t say anything at the sight of Kihyun hopelessly standing on his front porch, at least not right away.

“Hi,” Kihyun says, shifting awkwardly on his feet, facing down in shame. “I um. Forgot my phone here.”

Minhyuk’s expression is unreadable. “I know, I found it in the guest bedroom. I would’ve called but… you know. You didn’t have your phone.”

Minhyuk opens the door wider, gesturing for Kihyun to come in. Kihyun complies, the closet he left open taunting him in his peripheral vision.

“Here,” Minhyuk says after returning Kihyun his phone. “So, um. You were just gonna leave? Before I woke up?”

A beat of silence. “Why do you have my scarf?”

“What?”

“You have my scarf. Why?” Kihyun points to it through the open closet door.

“I don’t know, I…” Minhyuk’s at a loss for words, uncharacteristic for him.

“I’m just curious,” Kihyun mutters. It’s just a scarf.

“I honestly don’t know,” Minhyuk tells him. “When I first moved out of the dorms, I just came back here to Gwangju because I didn’t have a new place yet. And when I was unpacking my shit, your scarf was there, I don’t even know how. I don’t even remember packing it in the first place.”

“Oh,” Kihyun says. “You kept it all this time?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve had the chance to give it back to you. And I can’t just throw it away.”

 _That would be like throwing you away_ , Kihyun thinks. The colour is probably draining from his face.

“Okay, well. You can keep it,” he finally says. His words come out flat without meaning to.

“What? But you love this scarf.”

“I do but—it’s okay, keep it. It’s been so long since I’ve last worn it,” Kihyun shrugs, turning himself towards the door. “It doesn’t even really feel like mine anymore.”

_< tape skips>_

Kihyun just wants to get the fuck home as soon as possible. He’s still within Gwangju’s city limits, feeling antsy as the highway that takes him in the direction of Seoul seems so far away on the tiny screen of his GPS.

The gas meter inches closer and closer towards ‘empty,’ so he pulls up to a gas station not too far from outside Minhyuk’s neighbourhood. It doubles as a convenience store, which Kihyun’s grateful for since he had fled Minhyuk’s house without grabbing breakfast first.

The convenience store is dead empty, almost eerily silent. Kihyun feels a bit self conscious as he’s the only customer, quietly scouring the contents of the shelves to find his favourite brand of ramen. He feels someone’s gaze on the back of his neck. He tries slapping the sensation away, but it persists.

When tosses two cups of ramen on the counter, the old woman working the register looks Kihyun up and down, examining his face.

Kihyun shifts awkwardly on his feet. “Good morning,” he chirps.

“Oh! I remember you,” she finally says. “You’re Minhyuk’s friend, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“He comes here all the time. He’s so polite, one of my favourite customers,” she muses. “But I remember you came in with him once. Your hair was brown back then, wasn’t it?”

The memory of this exact convenience store struggles to unlock in his brain somewhere. It had been forever since the last time he came to Gwangju—back when they were still in the group, he and Minhyuk had made a trip here during their time off. He can’t remember the reason he had agreed to come, he just knew he couldn’t say no, as Minhyuk was set on showing Kihyun all of his favourite places, and all the landmarks of his childhood. This convenience store had been one of them.

Kihyun had tried to tell Minhyuk that it’s just a convenience store, and that convenience store ramen doesn’t exactly have variety—it’s like Starbucks, there’s one on every street and they’re all exactly the same. If anything, the familiarity of it was the whole point, there’s no surprises, you get what you expect. Minhyuk disagreed, saying it’s all about the _sentimental value_ of this particular convenience store’s collection of ramen and ice cream, that he came to this exact convenience store everyday after class in middle school, which made it different and _special_ from every other convenience store in Korea.

The woman at the counter now, was the same woman at the counter back then.

“That was…” Kihyun breathes. His eyebrows crease in disbelief. “That was years ago.”

“He’s mentioned you a few times since then,” the woman hums, scanning Kihyun’s ramen. He absentmindedly grabs an ice cream cone and places it on the counter before she’s done ringing him up.

Kihyun’s rendered speechless—he had no idea why Minhyuk would mention him here of all places, and recent enough that this woman would remember?

Kihyun _really_ just wants to get the fuck home now. Staying in Gwangju was pretty much starting to equate to constantly being reminded of Minhyuk, in everywhere he went and everything he did. A lit fuse burning slowly in the background, waiting to blow.

Kihyun heats up his ramen before jogging back to his car and inhaling his cheap convenience store meal.

Perhaps Minhyuk was right. There’s something nostalgic about the syrupy sweet chocolate ice cream—he always gets chocolate, Minhyuk always gets vanilla—in a way that’s different and special from every other convenience store in Korea, maybe even in the whole world.

_< tape skips >_

It’s early enough in the day on a Sunday that there isn’t a lot of traffic. He had been driving for the last few minutes in a total daze, so once he finally notices how bare the roads are, he breathes a sigh of relief. He’d probably been driving kind of recklessly.

The radio sputters muffled voices; turned on in hopes of drowning out Kihyun’s thoughts, but it’s to no avail. He can’t stop thinking about everything that happened this weekend—Hyungwon ditching him, the fans waiting outside the escape room building. Them fighting instead of just forgiving each other. The polaroid, the scarf. The convenience store. Each vignette fades a little more each time he replays it, until it’s just a blurry mosaic of shapes and colour. It makes him wonder if he’s making the right decision, driving away like this.

Kihyun silently wishes to God, or to whatever omnipotent force that might potentially be listening, that he'd be given an excuse to turn the car around, back to Minhyuk. He runs through different possibilities—maybe being struck by lightning would be a good one.

He sighs, directing his focus on the road ahead of him, since he doesn’t have an apt excuse.

There’s a yellow light coming up. He can clear it. It should be fine.

A lone car is in the lane to his left. Kihyun glances over briefly, it’s a little bit behind him and slowing down, seemingly unnecessarily. It’s strange. Kihyun’s already entering the intersection.

His eyes go wide. A truck is approaching him from the left side. There’s no time to react.

The most prominent sensation of the next few seconds is probably the taste of nylon and smoke, when the airbag bursts. Or maybe it’s the sound of shattering metal and glass.

From the impact, the driver’s side door buckles inwards near its hinge, crushing his leg under it. The hood of his car crumples, too. A crack blooms across the windshield in the shape of a spiderweb.

Kihyun gets one final, fleeting glimpse of his face through the rear-view mirror. His cheeks are bruised and burned from the airbag, and his lip is split. He lets out an adrenaline-fueled scream, exhausting the last of his energy before everything fades to black.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. x4. >_

Their first music show win is a total surprise. Comeback after comeback, watching everyone else but them getting announced as first place winners—they’d almost gotten used to losing.

The tears are like a dam that’s been broken. Kihyun can’t even stand up straight. Hyunwoo, who’s usually composed, is too emotional to give a thank-you speech.

There’s confetti in Kihyun’s hair. Minhyuk has one stuck to his cheek.

Backstage, it’s a mess. Hyungwon’s face is soaked in tears. Jooheon’s trying his best to keep it together, pulling Changkyun into a hug. Hoseok’s still crying when they take a group photo.

“You worked so hard,” Minhyuk sobs into Kihyun’s shoulder. His tears are soaking right through Kihyun’s suit jacket.

“You did too,” Kihyun sniffles back.

They stand there for a bit, locked in each other’s embrace.

“Kihyun?” Minhyuk says. Kihyun looks up. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” Kihyun says. He lifts a hand to Minhyuk’s cheek, pushing away the piece of confetti on his cheek. “I’m always here.”

“I know,” Minhyuk says. “Kihyun?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

When Kihyun wakes up, it’s to a pounding headache, and searing pain in his left leg and across his chest and neck.

“You’re awake,” a voice says. It’s unrecognizable. Kihyun’s heavy eyelids blink open and his vision is blurred, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness, but soon he’s able to make out a young woman towering over him. She’s holding a clipboard and wearing navy blue scrubs—she’s probably a nurse, but part of Kihyun thinks that with his luck, there’s a chance she’s the grim reaper preparing to escort him to hell.

Kihyun’s body feels stiff, he tries to move it and most of his limbs seem to be working okay, aside from left calf, which is elevated and encased in a cast.

“How are you holding up?” the nurse asks. She gives him a small, sympathetic smile.

“Okay, I think,” Kihyun says, though it comes out more like a whisper, barely audible. “What happened?”

“You were in a car accident,” she explains. “It wasn’t your fault, though. A truck driver ran a red light.”

“My leg,” is all Kihyun can weakly mutter. He feels pathetic. He’s also absolutely screwed—he probably can’t perform in this state, and driving back home like this might be a dangerous idea.

“Yes, it’s broken. We’ve just performed surgery on it, actually. You have bruises on your torso from your seatbelt as well, so be careful.”

Kihyun sighs. “What happened to the other driver?”

“He appeared to have no major injuries.”

What a bastard, Kihyun thinks. The guy had fucked up his car _and_ his leg and got to leave in one piece.

The nurse chatters on about pain medication Kihyun’s supposed to be taking, or something along those lines. Kihyun can barely process it, feeling weak and restless. She informs him that he’s staying at Suwan Hospital, which draws another helpless exhale out of his lungs. He’s still in Gwangju, which makes his plan of going home as soon as possible even more complicated.

Once the nurse is done with the rundown of what happened, she hands Kihyun back his phone before leaving the room, telling him it’s probably a good idea to call someone since they don’t have an emergency contact for him.

Kihyun considers his options. According to the nurse, he’d have to keep this cast on for the next six weeks at least, which means his schedules will have to be cancelled. So, calling a manager is an unquestionable _no_ —he’d rather not have his ass kicked when he’s already got enough injuries to worry about. He could call his parents, or his older brother, but he doesn’t want to unnecessarily burden them. Minhyuk is probably the closest geographically, but there’s something far too humiliating about calling him for help after practically fleeing from his house.

So, he settles on calling Jooheon.

“Hey,” Jooheon answers almost immediately.

“Hi,” Kihyun doesn’t know why he feels shy suddenly. If Jooheon had called him, saying he was hurt and at the hospital, Kihyun would probably drop everything to go see if he was okay. But being on the other end of it doesn’t feel the same.

“Hi… what’s up? How’s Gwangju?”

“I was on the way home, actually.”

“Oh! You’re getting back soon?”

“Yeah… about that,” Kihyun swallows. “I’m at the hospital.”

“You’re what?”

“I got in a car accident.”

“You _what_?!”

“I broke my leg.”

“Kihyun, oh my god. What the _fuck_.” To Kihyun’s surprise, Jooheon sounds completely distressed on the other end of the line. Maybe calling him wasn’t the most fruitful option, but it was the only one Kihyun was willing to go through with. “Are you being for real right now? If you’re just trying to scare me, I swear to god—”

Kihyun rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass. I’m literally rotting away in a hospital bed right now. My leg’s in a fucking cast—I’m fucked.”

“Are you okay? Like, are you in pain? Are you alive? Oh my god, you almost died.”

“Yes, Jooheon, I’m alive,” Kihyun tells him, patience starting to wear thin. “Listen, I need you to come and get me when I’m discharged, okay?”

“Okay, I will. Which hospital? Actually, just text me the address—”

“Um. I didn’t exactly make it very far. I’m still in Gwangju.”

“Dude.”

“What?”

Jooheon lets out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, for the record, you know I’d do anything for you. But why didn’t you call Minhyuk? He’d be able to get to you way faster than I can.”

“We fought.”

The line goes quiet for a moment. “You fought,” Jooheon finally parrots back.

“Yes.”

“So what?” Jooheon says, irritation taking over his voice. “You need help, I’m sure he can put aside whatever argument you guys had to come get you from the damn _hospital_.”

“No,” Kihyun retorts.

“What do you mean _no_ , Kihyun—now you’re just being dumb. Call him now unless you want me to do it for you.”

Kihyun’s eyes widen. After another thirty seconds of back-and-forth, featuring Jooheon getting increasingly more annoyed, Kihyun reluctantly agrees to asking Minhyuk for help—under the condition that Jooheon does the actual _asking_ and Kihyun just gets to wait there silently until Minhyuk shows up.

When Minhyuk does show up, Kihyun feels shy again, and decides the best course of action is to pretend to be asleep. As he lays there lifelessly, Kihyun wonders why it always comes down to this.

“Hey,” Minhyuk’s voice is so soft, the weight on the mattress shifting slightly, like Minhyuk’s leaning on it or something. Kihyun doesn’t dare to move. His heart pounds in his chest, and he holds his breath for God knows what reason. Minhyuk’s right, he’s terrible at pretending to be asleep. He probably looks dead.

At Kihyun’s silence, Minhyuk continues. “I’m sorry. For fighting yesterday—you know, in some twisted way, I feel like this is my fault. ‘Cos if we didn’t fight yesterday, then you wouldn’t have left early, and maybe you wouldn’t have been hit by a fucking car. God, I feel really bad.”

After a moment of silence, Kihyun blinks his eyes open to see Minhyuk looking back at him with round, sympathetic eyes. He snorts. “That was so corny. And I thought you said you could tell when I was pretending to be asleep. From _a mile away_.”

Minhyuk’s jaw drops, which makes Kihyun giggle, and once it seems like Minhyuk’s processed what just happened, he punches Kihyun square in the arm. “Kihyun, what the fuck. Also, you almost died! I have the right to be corny.”

Kihyun yelps at the punch, and dramatically wipes a non-existent tear away. “Please. I didn’t die, Minhyuk.”

“Yeah but you _almost_ did.”

“Stop, you’re making it too serious,” Kihyun says, the effects of his fit of giggles still showing on his face. “And this isn’t your fault, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Being dramatic is my job, you should know that by now,” Minhyuk huffs.

“Can we talk about me dying later? My body hurts so bad from the whiplash, I can’t be laughing like this,” Kihyun says. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You’re unbelievable,” Minhyuk shakes his head, but he’s starting to smile too, and it just makes Kihyun’s cheeks hurt even more.

_< tape skips >_

Jooheon had saved Kihyun from an awkward phone conversation, but nothing could’ve helped him here, during the drive back to Minhyuk’s house. It’s dead silent aside from the whirring of the radio, which comes out mostly as irritating white noise because the signal sucks.

He’d spent less than a day away from Minhyuk, unconscious for most of it, and now he’s tethering back to Minhyuk by the hand of some divine magnetic force. It’s almost _annoying_.

Getting in and out of the car is unspeakably awkward as Kihyun’s left leg is useless and the rest of his limbs aren’t much help, either. Minhyuk hooks an arm across Kihyun’s back, and his grip isn’t exactly gentle, but Kihyun is grateful for it anyway, cheeks getting rosy. He also doesn’t question it as Minhyuk practically half-carries him to the front door, even though his crutches are waiting for him in the backseat of Minhyuk’s car.

Once Kihyun is situated on the couch in the living room, crutches fetched from the car and resting against the armrest, Minhyuk mumbles something to himself about calling his brother and telling him he can’t make it—whatever ‘it’ is. Kihyun remembers somewhere in the back of his mind he had made a mental note to ask Minhyuk about his brother, and realizes he never got to it.

“Make it to what?” Kihyun asks.

“Oh, just—I was gonna visit him later this week but I gotta tell him I can’t come.”

Kihyun just stares up at Minhyuk with round eyes. “Huh? Why?”

“You’re hurt, Kihyun. I can’t leave you here by yourself.”

“What? Sure you can.”

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

That detail had been unspoken up until now, but actually hearing it makes Kihyun’s cheeks flush. “It’s fine, Minhyuk. You don’t have to put your life on hold.”

“I’m just gonna call him real quick, okay? I’ll be right back.” He leaves the room before Kihyun can get another word in.

Kihyun stares ahead to the blank, switched off TV screen in front of him. The cast needs to stay on for a good two months, and they’ve yet to talk about how long Kihyun is meant to be staying here before going back to Seoul. They hadn’t talked about anything. Kihyun had no idea what they were doing right now. He doesn’t want Minhyuk to think he has to drop everything for him or baby him or tend to his every need, as nice as it may sound to have undivided attention like that.

“So, did you tell a manager or anything? Like, about what happened?” Minhyuk asks when he returns to the living room, pocketing his phone.

Kihyun groans, dragging his palms down his face. “God, no. I’m gonna be in so much trouble. I’m considering just hiding for the rest of my life.”

Minhyuk giggles. “They’re gonna notice you’re gone eventually.”

“I hope they don’t.”

“Come on, Kihyun, you’re being so negative.”

“I just think I’ve found the perfect excuse to never see Kim Shidae’s face ever again. I’m finally admitting that I, too, hate that stupid, ugly, bald son of a bitch.”

“I thought you said he wasn’t bald.”

Kihyun sighs, just resting in his thoughts for a moment. “I’d really just much rather hide here forever.”

“With me?” Minhyuk’s asking with a smirk.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he’s overstepping by saying it, or even thinking it. He knows Minhyuk just ditched his brother to look after him, seeming ready to drop everything for him. And he feels bad because Minhyuk didn’t sign up for this—whatever _this_ was. But Minhyuk’s looking back at him with kind eyes and a warm, loving smile, and Kihyun thinks maybe God or whatever omnipotent force who granted him this hellish day has decided he’s deserved a free pass for selfishness.

_< tape skips >_

The following few days drag on at an excruciatingly slow pace, eventually turning from days to weeks. At least, Kihyun thinks they are, he’s lost all concept of time. As the days blur together, he’s becoming less and less sure when episodes of some cheesy Netflix drama end and when periodic re-watches of his second favourite movie of all time begin—Midnight in Paris, of course, only second to About Time. The pinnacle of modern film as far as Kihyun’s concerned.

Kihyun’s been sitting on the bed for so long, for so many days, he can almost feel his butt getting flatter than it already is. He’s gone numb and virtually lost all feeling in his left ass cheek.

After realizing that going up and down the staircase is a hassle that’s barely worth the effort—it fucking _spirals_ , for god’s sake—Kihyun decides to just live upstairs. He’s pretty much built a nest made of pillows and blankets pressed against the headboard in Minhyuk’s bed, and is usually wrapped up in the thick comforter with just his head peeking out. The fact that there’s a TV in Minhyuk’s bedroom is its best quality, and also the reason Kihyun’s made himself at home here rather than the guest bedroom, and what’s allowed him to re-watch Midnight in Paris so many times.

Décor-wise, Minhyuk’s bedroom is pretty bare bones. But there are so many little details that just make it characteristically _him_. On second thought, perhaps _this_ is its best quality. The pod of whale plushies on the bed, the faded poster of Click-B that’s probably been up since middle school, the bookcase that holds next to no books but is instead adorned with Minhyuk’s variety awards, a few potted succulents, and a framed photo from their group’s final world tour. Kihyun practically coos at the photo—Hyungwon has tears streaming down his face, Jooheon’s mid-blink, Hyunwoo and Changkyun are trying to make a heart but it turned out asymmetric. He remembers it like it was yesterday, the feeling he had when their stage platform descended at the end of the show—the end of an era. But the photo brings Kihyun nothing short of comfort.

At the beginning of this innocent trip to Gwangju, Kihyun had originally only planned on getting acquainted with weekend Minhyuk. But he’s now given the chance to get to know weekday Minhyuk, too. While weekend Minhyuk sleeps in and lazes around throughout most of the day, weekday Minhyuk is a fucking _gardener_. Kihyun has no idea when Minhyuk became so versed in taking care of plants but almost the entire backyard is a garden—planter boxes adorned on the deck overflow onto the cobblestone and into the rest of the open green space, beautiful, lush, and colourful. It’s the first time Kihyun’s noticing the backyard since he’d first arrived here. Minhyuk has planted an array of different flowers from stunning and bright purple hyacinths, to sweet yellow roses, scarlet and gold zinnias, and a rainbow of chrysanthemums of different hues. Kihyun’s heard of flowers having meanings, and he wonders if these flowers mean anything to Minhyuk. He knows the chrysanthemums are Minhyuk’s birth flower because they’re his too, but Minhyuk just shrugs it off when he asks about the others.

When weekday Minhyuk isn’t tending to the garden, he’s volunteering at a daycare in Gwangju. It makes sense, Kihyun thinks. Minhyuk’s always loved kids, always said he’d be a kindergarten teacher if he wasn’t an idol. The kids must love him, and if Minhyuk’s excited anecdotes are anything to go by, they absolutely do.

Kihyun also comes to learn that ever since the taiyaki incident—the one that resulted in the smoke detector going off—Minhyuk has gotten exponentially better at baking. After a long shift at the daycare, in which he usually returns home with paint splattered on his jeans, Minhyuk turns to making everything from bread to cakes to cookies as a source of relaxation. By now, Minhyuk’s gone above and beyond mastering the art of making taiyaki. He makes some for Kihyun, hand delivering it to him in his abode in Minhyuk’s room, teasing him for eating the tail-end first rather than the head.

It’s so fascinating, in Kihyun’s opinion, that even though Minhyuk isn’t working anymore, he’s as busy as ever, collecting new hobbies like they were stamps or something. Minhyuk laughs when Kihyun tells him this, saying perhaps he _should_ take up stamp collecting. If anything, he’s already got a head start from all the fan letters he’s received and hoarded over the years. 

At night, after his eventful days, Minhyuk always insists on sleeping in the guest bedroom so that Kihyun can have Minhyuk’s bed to himself. Minhyuk says something about Kihyun needing the rest more than he does, and that his bed is comfier than the guest bedroom one, so Kihyun should have it. As much as Kihyun wants to tell him it’s okay, that they can just share Minhyuk’s bed, he doesn’t say it. Minhyuk stays with him until the last possible moment before going to bed, and Kihyun’s grateful enough for those moments that he doesn’t ask for more.

During the first few days, they don’t talk about when Kihyun’s meant to leave, just living in harmony as if this is their permanent arrangement. But eventually, Kihyun decides to bring it up as Minhyuk’s curled up against him in Minhyuk’s bed. Minhyuk’s shoving taiyaki in Kihyun’s mouth as the TV quietly hums in the background, faintly glowing in the darkness of Minhyuk’s bedroom.

“You know, my arms work just fine, Minhyuk,” Kihyun giggles, cheeks stuffed with bread and red bean paste. “There’s no reason to be feeding me.”

“I’m making you eat the head side first,” Minhyuk says. “It’s the superior taiyaki experience.”

The drama they’re watching switches to commercials. Kihyun looks down to Minhyuk, whose eyes are on the verge of fluttering shut. He’d had a not-so-pleasant volunteer shift at the daycare that day, with one too many kids screaming in his ear.

“Hey,” Kihyun says softly, mindful of the drowsy state Minhyuk’s in. Kihyun clears his throat. “So… about when do you think I should be heading home?”

“That depends,” Minhyuk says, a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Does your manager even know where you are? Because if he doesn’t, maybe you still have time to fuck around. Or are they gonna send a search party after you?”

Kihyun sighs. After pretending he hadn’t heard his phone ring for the past few days, Kihyun finally gave in and told his manager everything that happened, receiving nothing short of a lecture with the volume turned all the way up. “Yeah, I told him. He was _livid_.”

Minhyuk snorts. “I mean, you’ve been MIA for almost a week.”

“I don’t wanna go back.”

“Then don’t.”

Kihyun glances over. Minhyuk’s focus is back on the TV now, seeming fascinated by the Hyundai ad on the screen.

“I can’t do that,” Kihyun mutters, chewing his lip. “I gotta eventually, people are waiting.”

“Just stay ‘til your cast is off then,” Minhyuk says, shrugging the shoulder that isn’t leaning against Kihyun.

“That’s like two months from now,” Kihyun says lifting an eyebrow. “They’re expecting me back ASAP.”

“And are you gonna go?”

“Dunno.”

“I mean, think about it, Kihyun. How are you even gonna get there?” Minhyuk says. “You have no car, it got fucking totaled. And I’m not so sure taking a train is a smart idea. You’re too clumsy for that, you’re gonna find a way to hurt yourself.”

They’re excuses. Kihyun knows it too, he knows that these are just excuses. There are easy solutions to this—he could get a rental car, or Minhyuk could drive him back. But Kihyun finds himself agreeing anyway.

“You’re right,” Kihyun says. It’s a lie, they’re lying to themselves. “I’ll just call him tomorrow and say I’m staying here until I’m better.”

“Good,” Minhyuk says. “I mean, it’s not like you can even work. Like, your schedules are all gonna be canceled anyway, right?”

“Right,” Kihyun nods. “Yeah. Exactly.”

The soft noise from the TV fills the space that their conversation used to occupy.

Eventually, Minhyuk’s breathing evens out, chest rising and falling slowly but steadily, and Kihyun realizes he’s fallen asleep. It’s not even a comfortable position—Minhyuk’s chin digs into Kihyun’s shoulder clumsily, but Kihyun still doesn’t have the heart to wake him. Besides, Minhyuk feels so warm pressed against Kihyun’s side.

The next morning, Kihyun feels a weight against his waist. He doesn't push Minhyuk's arm off of him, because for all he knows, he might not get another moment like this. And the next few weeks almost prove Kihyun right—it’s rare that Minhyuk lets himself fall asleep beside Kihyun, strictly abiding by his routine of returning to the guest bedroom before it got too late. Most nights, he has an impending shift at the daycare the next morning, and can’t afford to be away from his alarm.

But thankfully, it’s not a completely isolated moment—there are a few rare times in which Minhyuk indulges in Kihyun’s embrace. To Kihyun, the light Minhyuk gives off is always worth the wait, a comet soaring by once every century.

_< tape skips >_

It usually comes rushing back on the nights he’s alone, when he’s deep in REM, and it’s vivid and haunting. The truck getting closer. The shattering glass, the crumpling metal, the bitter smoke. The bruised face in the rear-view mirror. The helpless ache in his throat.

Kihyun’s eyes shoot open. He’s breathing heavy, his heart is hammering in his chest. His body stiffens, drowning in sweat. 

As much as Kihyun had insisted to Minhyuk that the whole car accident incident _wasn’t_ a big deal, and he _didn’t_ almost die so there’s no reason to dwell on the situation—it was easier said than done. Sometimes if he left his mind unoccupied too long, he’d just replay it in his head—the truck, the windshield, the airbag. A tape stuck on replay.

It was worse at night, when he’d be alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. That’s when the awful memory manifested itself in the form of nightmares.

Kihyun felt a bit pathetic constantly thinking about it. It’s not like it was life-threatening and there are so many people who’ve experienced way worse, right? It isn’t worth fussing over this much.

As embarrassing as it is, on nights like these, Kihyun’s remedy to escape his nightmare-filled stupor is to let his mind wander to Minhyuk. At least, that’s what it was at first—wandering. Trudging through the recesses of his mind to find something, anything of comfort. And of course, his favourite brand of comfort was Minhyuk. But after the first few nights, it became deliberate, as if he’d switched out the tape of the horrible memory for one of something more familiar, something warmer. Sometimes, even when he didn’t have the nightmares, he found himself hitting play anyway.

He’d think about innocent things at first—the way Minhyuk can’t sleep without hugging a plushie, the way his fingers curl into a fist when he’s dreaming. The way his cheeks get rosy when he steps out of the shower, the way his left eye blinks slower than the right, the way he usually can’t do a peace sign without unintentionally sticking his pinkie finger up, too. The way he sits on the couch with his legs folded up like a pretzel, sometimes absentmindedly pressing his thigh against Kihyun’s.

But before he knows it, all Kihyun can think about is Minhyuk’s warm body, the way it’d feel to have it hovering over him. The way it’d feel to run his hands across Minhyuk’s chest, down his thighs, feeling sparkling electric shocks in the tips of his fingers. The way it’d feel to have his lips against Minhyuk’s searing hot skin. The way it’d feel to surrender to the magnetic force pulling them closer and closer together, until it’s no longer physically possible to do so.

Normally, Kihyun just talks himself out of jerking off to these wandering thoughts—because something about it feels wrong, especially with Minhyuk sleeping in the guest bedroom just down the hall—and forces himself to just fucking count sheep or something until he falls asleep.

Tonight, he runs through his usual routine of not getting himself off and trying to will himself to sleep. But it doesn’t work. He tosses and turns restlessly, eventually staring up at the ceiling in defeat. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone.

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 1:52 a.m.  
 _are you awake?  
come to my room_

1:53 a.m.  
 _please_

1:54 a.m.  
 _minhyuk i know you keep your volume on 100 even when you’re asleep_

 **Lee Minhyuk  
** 1:55 a.m.  
 _shh imtrying to sleep  
aslo thats my room_

 **Yoo Kihyun  
** 1:55 a.m.  
 _ok come to your room then  
i had a bad dream_ :(

 **Lee Minhyuk  
** 1:56 a.m.  
😐  
 _are u being fr?_

1:57 a.m. _  
ok fine im comin_

Kihyun rests his phone against his chest, ears searching for the familiar echo of Minhyuk’s footsteps in the hallway. The door to Minhyuk’s bedroom inches open. Kihyun cranes his neck and lifts his head off the pillow to find a sleepy Minhyuk peeking his head through the doorway. His hair is disheveled, one leg of his sweatpants riding up, face rosy and creased from his pillow.

Kihyun scoots over to one side of the bed, making room for Minhyuk to crawl underneath the covers. Minhyuk immediately curls into a ball, half asleep and closer than what Kihyun would’ve expected.

“What did you dream about?” Minhyuk whispers in the darkness of the bedroom, settling into the mattress. The drowsiness is etched in his voice.

“The accident,” Kihyun whispers back, barely audible.

“Oh,” Minhyuk looks up. “Do you wanna talk about something? To get your mind off it?”

Kihyun blinks back with round eyes, nodding.

“Hm… okay,” Minhyuk says, still whispering, but sounding more awake now. “Do you remember when I failed at making taiyaki at the dorms?”

Kihyun snorts. “How could I forget? You left _me_ to fire-extinguish your mess.”

“Okay, but you have to admit, I’ve gotten way better at making it now,” Minhyuk says. “I even have the little fish-shaped taiyaki pans now!”

Kihyun giggles. “I don’t know why you thought you could make the fish shapes _without_ the special taiyaki pan.”

“I thought it’d be easy! Like drawing, just on a pan,” Minhyuk says. “I should make more tomorrow.”

“Why do you keep making it so much?” Kihyun asks. “I’m not complaining but like, do you think there’s a taiyaki equivalent of when you eat too many carrots and then start turning orange?”

“Well… I make it ‘cos I know you like it.”

Minhyuk doesn’t seem to notice that Kihyun’s brain is short-circuiting right now, mouth falling open and clamping shut again. “Do you wanna help me make some tomorrow?” Minhyuk asks.

In the midst of wondering how Minhyuk seems to slip things into casual conversation that makes him lose his mind, Kihyun manages a soft smile. He’s grateful that it’s dark, so Minhyuk can’t see his cheeks going rosy. “I’d love too, but my arms are still bruised, it still hurts so fucking bad—I don’t think I could even beat an egg right now if I tried.”

“Then I’ll just have to keep being your personal chef ‘til you’re better, then,” Minhyuk says.

The silence between them is comfortable, as it always is, but Kihyun finds himself wanting, needing, for the air to be refilled again. Even if it’s mundane, even if Minhyuk were to just recite everything he’d eaten that day and all its nutritional value, Kihyun needs Minhyuk’s voice right now.

Thankfully, Kihyun’s put out of his misery soon enough. “What else do you wanna talk about?” Minhyuk asks.

Kihyun takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anything.”

“Why did you really come back to Gwangju?” Kihyun asks.

Minhyuk sighs. “I’ve just been tired,” he says. “I feel like I was just working and working, but what’s the point of it? It’s annoying to actually say this out loud, but I feel like I already reached my goals. I don’t have anything left.”

Kihyun hums, indicating he’s still listening. He’s surprised—to him, Minhyuk seems like he’s got it all figured out.

“And you know what’s the saddest part?” Minhyuk continues. “I only ever wanted to be an idol because I loved music… I just wanted to sing. And I don’t even do that anymore.”

“Sure you do,” Kihyun says, frowning.

Minhyuk presses his lips together. “I mean, for _real_. Not soundtrack shit. I dunno how variety became my main thing, and I mean, I like it… I love it, really. But it’s just weird. This isn’t how I thought my life would turn out.”

“I feel the same, honestly. Even though I’m still doing music,” Kihyun says. “Maybe I’m just naïve but I thought I’d have all this freedom? When I started my solo shit. And I kinda do, I guess but… it’s not what I expected.”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes. “You’re weird about expectations,” he says, smiling. “You’ve got them set way too high.”

“I can’t help it,” Kihyun says, smiling too. Minhyuk’s smile is too contagious.

They lay in comfortable silence again, Kihyun’s nightmare already shrinking down to insignificant nothingness. Minhyuk always makes it so easy for him to forget about his worries.

“I hate being an idol,” Kihyun says, and it’s as if he’s announcing it. The confession doesn’t feel foreign on his tongue. Probably because it’s not the first time he’s thought about it. But it is the first time he’s managed to fit together all the fragments of questions and unfinished thoughts whirring around in his head into something coherent enough to say out loud. Kihyun hates being an idol.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t _hate_ it—not entirely. Kihyun’s a good singer, he knows he is. And more than that, he loves it. He loves that it’s his job. The rush he gets at the end of a performance from the cheers of the audience is an unmatched feeling, in Kihyun’s opinion. Finally getting songwriting opportunities after seven years in an idol group where at most, he’d be allowed to make _suggestions_ on the vocal arrangements—that was a feat as well. Working with Jooheon, one of his best friends in the entire world, is an added bonus he wouldn’t trade for anything.

But there are parts of it that he does hate. He hates the demanding schedules, appearing at event after event, seemingly with the goal of promoting his music but feeling empty at the end of the night. Each comeback appears to arrive faster than the last, like a snowball tumbling down a hill, the pressure to churn out more music building up along the way. Kihyun doesn’t have time to stop and breathe, and it just results in him releasing music he’s not proud of, just to meet the deadlines.

Maybe, above all, he’s getting too old to be partaking in imaginary boyfriend fanservice for thousands of fans. And at this point, he’s probably not fooling anyone, anyway. He’s only a good actor when he wants to be.

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow. “You do? You’re so good at it, though. And I say that completely unbiased.”

“Thanks,” Kihyun says, cheeks tinting pink. “Maybe I don’t completely hate it. But I thought eventually people would see me as a serious musician. And by the way things are going, I’m far from it.”

“I think you’re a serious musician.”

Kihyun scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” Minhyuk says, it comes out like a shriek and a whisper at the same time.

The conversation fades again. Minhyuk scoots closer, dusting something off Kihyun’s shoulder, adjusting his pajama top. Kihyun’s sure there’s nothing there. Minhyuk always does that. Maybe it’s a habit, maybe it’s just an excuse to touch him. But either way, Kihyun doesn’t mind.

“I don’t wanna go home,” Kihyun says, almost whining.

“Then don’t.”

When Minhyuk says it like that, it feels like it really could be that easy.

Kihyun tests the waters. “I wish I could just stay here.”

“Then stay,” Minhyuk doesn’t hesitate. Kihyun watches his lips as he says it. “What’s stopping you?”

Kihyun’s heart speeds up. He opens his mouth to respond just to wordlessly close it again. He can’t think of a reason—though there must be a bunch, right? There are reasons he can’t just stay here, in the warmth and solace of Minhyuk’s bed. But right now, he can’t think of any, or anything at all really, his mind is running dry.

“Come on, give me one reason,” Minhyuk says. Kihyun’s not sure where Minhyuk’s focus is, all he knows is that his own is on Minhyuk’s lips and he can’t think about anything else.

“I can’t think of any,” Kihyun stammers out. Maybe his throat’s closing, maybe it’s not. _Minhyuk, Minhyuk, Minhyuk_ , he can’t think about anything else.

“What are you thinking about?”

Kihyun tilts his head, gaze fixed on Minhyuk’s lips. It’s obvious what he’s thinking about. Their lips are so close now, he feels his own tingling and needing to close the distance. He’s felt this before. That magnetic force, divine as ever, he’s positive it exists now. It’s tethering him to Minhyuk relentlessly.

Minhyuk’s voice is loud enough to break the silence, but barely makes an impact on Kihyun’s daze. “Can I kiss you?”

Kihyun nods. Minhyuk leans closer, meeting his lips.

And suddenly, they’re kissing, and Minhyuk is reaching his hand out blindly towards Kihyun, just wanting to touch him, finally finding his way to Kihyun’s cheek to cradle it.

It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, not at all. All the other times had felt casual—at least, Kihyun had always thought that’s what they were supposed to be. Suspended in the grey area between friends and more than friends, knowing that this isn’t what friends usually do, but also knowing that they weren’t quite lovers either. And Kihyun had been okay with that. For the overthinker that he is, it was the one and only circumstance he let his mind go completely blank, just let himself go numb and revel in the bliss that Minhyuk’s lips provided.

But he doesn’t want _this_ kiss to be that way, and by the looks of it, it seems like Minhyuk doesn’t, either. There’s a feeling creeping up in his chest, he’s not sure what sparked it, but it makes him wonder if this is his last chance to bridge the gap between friends and lovers. To make things right.

Kihyun wants it to be perfect, but he’s not convinced that it will be, so before he can get ahead of himself, he pulls back. Minhyuk’s lips chase after his at the break of contact.

“Wait,” Kihyun says.

“What is it?” Minhyuk’s voice is so gentle, like if he spoke too loudly, his voice would become a tangible thing with the power to hurt Kihyun.

“I just… I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

Kihyun takes a breath. “Minhyuk I… I know I probably look totally oblivious, but I’ve felt this—whatever this is—since forever. Probably since we first met—”

“I know. Me too, if you’re wondering,” Minhyuk says.

“—and I feel like we’ve been waiting for this for so long that I’m scared the real thing won’t be what we expected it to be,” Kihyun says, feeling his throat dry up.

“What do you expect it to be?”

Kihyun thinks about it for a second, letting his gaze fall down to his lap, squishing his cheek against the pillow with dejection. “I don’t know… I just want it to be perfect.”

“Well… even if it’s not, will you still have me?” Minhyuk asks, after a beat.

“Of course,” Kihyun says, without hesitation, he doesn’t have to think twice about it.

“Then, do you wanna try? We’ve waited long enough, I think we deserve to try, you know?” Minhyuk shifts on the bed, closer to Kihyun. He was being _so_ gentle, Kihyun thinks he might be willing to do whatever Minhyuk asks of him, even if it was something as ridiculous as robbing a bank.

But there’s a voice at the back of his head, nagging at him, telling him it all needs to be perfect, and Kihyun’s always had a hard time accepting anything less than perfection.

“How can we be sure? Like, that we’re ready? I feel like you’re still hung up on thinking I almost died—and I _didn’t_ almost die, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” Kihyun’s starting to ramble. “But like, how can I know it’s not just your anxiety or whatever talking? I don’t wanna feel like you’re just overcompensating because you think it’s your fault that I got in a stupid car accident. Would we even be doing this—any of this—otherwise?”

Minhyuk creases an eyebrow. “Do you really think that? That I’m just overcompensating?”

“I don’t want to think that, but I’m just worried,” Kihyun says meekly. “You know how I am.”

“Kihyun, do you want to know what I really think?” Kihyun nods at this. Minhyuk’s propped himself up on his elbow now, poised and determined. “I think I was so mad about our friendship taking such a shit turn, that I just wanted to blame you for the whole thing. But let’s be real—it was both of our faults. Equally. And when you said this all started ‘cos you were afraid of losing me—I can’t even explain it, Kihyun. I felt like I _already_ lost you and it was a slap in the face and I just… ended up losing my shit at you. Blaming you.”

Kihyun swallows. He’s not sure where this conversation is going but he knows that when it comes down to it, he’s ready for forgiveness. Regardless of if it means he’s the one granting it, or begging for it. Minhyuk is right—the line between fault and innocence is blurry. They’ve both been acting childish, and Kihyun is more than ready to put an end to their stupidity.

When Minhyuk speaks again, his voice is calm, but firm. “But I was out of my fucking mind, Kihyun. I had no idea what the idea of losing you really meant until Jooheon called me to tell me you were in the _hospital_ and needed help,” he says. “And I know you don’t think it was a big deal, but to me it was, okay? Especially in the moment, ‘cos Jooheon didn’t even give me all the details. He just told me to hurry my ass up, I had no idea what to fucking expect.”

Minhyuk lets out a shaky sigh. “Why do you think I convinced you to stay here this long? It’s been weeks. We both know it was unnecessary. You could’ve gone home, like, the next day. But I didn’t want you to. I don’t wanna keep losing you, like, even just thinking that I could lose you—I can’t do it.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Kihyun can think to say. “It’s my fault we fought back then, it’s my fault we stopped talking. Maybe like, logically, it was both of our faults, but still—I want you to know that I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Minhyuk says, smiling. “No more bullshit, okay?”

“Okay,” Kihyun says. His throat feels like it’s closing up, but he doesn’t give a fuck. His smile takes up his entire face, feeling numb since he’s not sure if he wants to burst into tears or break into a fit of giggles. The feeling is indescribable, he doesn’t even know what it is, but he revels in it.

“We can go slow, okay?” Minhyuk reassures him. “We have all the time in the world.”

It’s not even true—they don’t have all the time in the world, because Kihyun has to go back to Seoul eventually, something he’s still dreading doing in the first place. But for now, he believes Minhyuk, like he’d believe anything Minhyuk could ever say, even if it was something absurd like the colour of the sky being purple. For now, he’s Minhyuk’s, and no one else’s.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. >_

This is stupid, Kihyun thinks. There’s no reason he would be asleep right now, it’s just a quick visit to the hospital. There’s no napping involved. So, he doesn’t know why he’s pretending to be asleep. It’s not like he’s had surgery or anything else particularly exhausting.

He’d fractured his rib in a game of futsal against Jooheon and Changkyun. Minhyuk had been on his team, of course. Changkyun had launched the ball a little too hard, and Kihyun got hit right in the chest. Minhyuk asked him maybe a million times if he was okay. He suggested sitting out or taking a break or stopping the game altogether. But Kihyun was determined to win, so they kept playing. And they did win. And it was worth it. Mostly.

Now he’s in the hospital, while the rest of the members are rehearsing at the venue for their concert that night. Kihyun had come here mostly alone, just one other staff member in his accompaniment.

Minhyuk had said he wanted to stop by after rehearsal ends. The doctor’s just left the room, taking Kihyun’s staff member with him. So, when Minhyuk does get here, they’re going to be alone.

When Minhyuk finally arrives, he seems to believe Kihyun’s pretending-to-be-asleep act. Kihyun’s going to have to tease Minhyuk about this later. He knows he’s not being very convincing. If anything, he just looks dead. It makes no sense, but Minhyuk still fell for it? And Minhyuk calls _him_ the gullible one.

Kihyun holds his breath. His heart is hammering against his chest. Maybe this would be a good opportunity to scare him.

But Minhyuk’s crouched beside the bed and Kihyun has to stop himself from smiling for three reasons. One, because that would ruin the illusion. Two, because laughing makes his ribs hurt. And three, Minhyuk’s starting to talk now and the things he’s saying aren’t exactly a laughing matter.

“Okay, new rule. We are never playing futsal again,” Minhyuk’s voice is soft. “At least not overseas where we don’t have insurance.”

Kihyun just lays there, wordlessly. Minhyuk keeps going, “Also—this one’s really important. I hope you’re not beating yourself up over this. Our concert’s still gonna be great. You’re still gonna sound amazing. You’re the best singer on the planet, as far as I’m concerned. Whether you’re dancing or sitting or whatever. And it’s not your fault, okay? It’s not anyone’s. Accidents happen. Changkyun says he’s sorry, by the way.”

Minhyuk sighs. “I know since it’s Staples Center, staying back at the hotel isn’t an option for you. At first, I was like, he’s being crazy, he’s hurt, he should stop being a dumbass and just rest. But then I was thinking about it, and like, if it was me, I’d be doing the same thing too. I’d be going on stage anyway, too.”

Minhyuk is probably pushing an elbow into the mattress now, resting his chin on his hand. Kihyun can’t tell, his eyes are closed, but he imagines it. Minhyuk continues, “And also? This is the biggest show of our whole careers. I want you up there with me, as selfish as that is. Like, yeah, the others will be there, and that’s important too. But it’s you and me, you know? Not like, you and me against the world or whatever—that’s corny. But just like. Kihyun and Minhyuk. Minhyuk and Kihyun. You know what I mean?”

Minhyuk presses a soft, chaste kiss against Kihyun’s forehead. “You’ll be fine, okay?”

Kihyun tenses up. The spot where Minhyuk’s lips had met Kihyun’s skin feels like it’s on fire. It’s warm and spreading over his entire body.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Minhyuk he’s just pretending to be asleep.

 _It’s you and me. Kihyun and Minhyuk. Minhyuk and Kihyun._ Kihyun knows what he meant, but probably wouldn’t be able to explain it if you ask him to.

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >_

“We can go slow,” Minhyuk had assured him.

That’s the plan, at least. They’re supposed to be going slow, which is why Minhyuk’s kisses are syrupy—sweet and slow. It’s why Minhyuk lays Kihyun down on the bed slowly and gently, watching his hair fan out against the mattress like a halo, mindful of his injuries and the bruises that haven’t faded yet. He navigates Kihyun’s body with care, kissing the parts that aren’t blue and vulnerable.

It’s why Minhyuk takes his time, open-mouthed and breathing heavy, basking in the moment, neither of them wanting it to end.

Minhyuk’s hands find their way in the dark, carding through Kihyun’s hair, gripping his hips, running down his thighs, grasping at the bedsheets.

Kihyun’s mouth is sighing out Minhyuk’s name until the syllables blur together on his tongue, moaning against his parted lips and his neck, sobbing and going crazy under his touch.

Every kiss and every action is indulgent. Kihyun doesn’t care that he’s already cashed in his free pass for selfishness. He just wants, wants, wants.

The slowness of their pace intensifies Kihyun’s anticipation, as he grows desperate to reach his high.

When Kihyun comes undone, it’s sensory overload—he’s overwhelmed by the way Minhyuk tastes, the way his cologne smells like roses, the way he looks so beautiful even in the low light. He wants to pull Minhyuk closer and closer even though it’s no longer physically possible to do so. The magnetic force amplifies tenfold, the magic they give off impossible to miss.

Maybe this isn’t exactly what Minhyuk had meant when he said slow—but Kihyun doesn’t care.

All of it is different now. The kisses, the touches, everything. It’s purposeful, it’s definitive. With none of the naivety and uncertainty they had in the past. It’s years in the making, and worth the wait. Kihyun doesn’t know what he’d been so worried about—it _is_ perfect, it’s Minhyuk after all, he shouldn’t have expected anything less.

_< pause >  
< rewind >  
< x2. x4. x8. x16. >_

Kihyun tosses his bag up onto the top bunk. He’d won it over the bottom one in a game of rock-paper-scissors. His bunkmate seemed annoyed at the loss, but Kihyun didn’t care. He’d won it fair and square.

His hand reaches to the pocket of his jeans out of habit, feeling for his phone. It’s not there, he’d surrendered it to one of the managers yesterday morning.

He’s barely had the chance to settle in before he hears his name being called down the hall. He’s shuffled into the car with a couple of the other new arrivals, en route to the company building.

Today’s his first lesson, on his first day as a trainee.

Watching the rain trickle down the car window, Kihyun wonders if he’s made the right choice by coming here. His mother wore an unreadable expression when he boarded the train early that morning with his suitcase tightly clutched in hand. He’d prove to her that this is all worth it soon. He’d debut and make her proud.

Kihyun pulls at his beanie. He rushes to the door, trying to get as little rain on him as possible. Puddles splash under his sneakers.

The floor squeaks under him as he makes his way down the hall, following the other trainees and the manager. He quickly glances at the doors on either side of him. There’s a dance class in session.

Kihyun’s a good singer, he knows he is. He always beat his friends in karaoke, and his voice teacher always gave him compliments.

There are a lot of good singers here, though.

His first vocal lesson goes alright. He knows he could’ve done better. The nerves had gotten to him—some other guy was already the teacher’s favourite. What a show-off, Kihyun thinks.

Maybe there’s no point in being bitter. He’ll just have to work harder.

He wanders in the lobby aimlessly after following his classmates there. It’s a bit awkward—most of them don’t know each other yet. Kihyun juts his chin out, in attempts to feign confidence. 

The dance class he’d passed by earlier is over now. Trainees spill out of the doors, sweat sticking to their foreheads.

One of them is greeting everyone in the lobby.

He approaches Kihyun with a smile, hand outstretched for a handshake. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Yoo Kihyun.”

“I’m Minhyuk.”

“Let’s debut together, shall we Minhyuk?” He doesn’t really know why he says this, he’s just going with his gut.

Kihyun grabs onto Minhyuk’s hand with a firm grip. Minhyuk’s hands are so big, Kihyun notices. He expects the handshake to be overbearing, like the guy’s trying to show him he’s assumed superiority since he’s been here longer, but it’s not like that. Minhyuk’s smile is bright, sincere. Kihyun can feel it on his wrist as Minhyuk’s fingers brush against it—the warmth.

_< pause >  
< fast-forward >  
< x2. x4. >_

Kihyun lifts up the corner of the front porch mat and grabs the house key from under it. The metal key makes a scraping sound against the concrete. The wood of the door feels warm under his touch as he pushes it open, heated by the familiar warmth of Gwangju summer air. He stumbles with excitement over the threshold, with Jooheon following close behind.

“You, my friend, are a madman,” Jooheon laughs as he slips his shoes off in the entryway. “I still cannot believe you ripped up the contract in front of all those company executives.”

“The look on Kim Shidae’s face was beyond worth it,” Kihyun says, sending Jooheon a smile over his shoulder. 

Jooheon hops up onto a barstool and rests his elbows on the kitchen island. Kihyun tosses his phone and wallet onto the marble countertop, which is a lot more matte than what Kihyun had back at his old place. He sweeps open the soft white curtains, pushing open the window behind the sink. Daylight pours in from the setting sun, along with the humidity. Kihyun pours two glasses of water.

“Hyungwon is gonna kick our asses when he finds out _that_ is how we handled not renewing our contracts,” Jooheon says, trying to hold back a smile. 

“He has no authority over us,” Kihyun says. “Not ‘til he actually _finishes_ his law degree.”

“Can’t believe he’s gonna be back in school this year.”

“Right? And he calls _me_ a nerd!”

Jooheon laughs. “Shouldn’t Minhyuk be back soon?” 

Kihyun nods, resting his palms against the kitchen island. “He’s getting takeout so we can celebrate.”

“You know, you guys _can_ just go on the romantic date I know Minhyuk already planned,” Jooheon says. “You can celebrate with me after.”

“What? No—,” Kihyun sputters, sliding Jooheon his glass. “Okay, _yes_ , Minhyuk does have a fancy date planned but it’s for the weekend! Today’s about us, so that includes you, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jooheon waves his hand. “Minhyuk’s totally a third wheel this time, then. This is a 2Chain only event.”

Kihyun laughs. He raises his glass of water. “A toast, to 2Chain officially being independent artists.”

Jooheon grins and clinks his glass against Kihyun’s. “To our freedom.”

They don’t need to wait too long before hearing a rapping on the door. Kihyun opens the door to an out of breath Minhyuk, armed with takeout in a plastic bag.

“You forgot your key when you got back earlier, didn’t you?” Minhyuk asks as Kihyun shuts the door. “It wasn’t under the mat.”

“Guilty,” Kihyun says, smiling. A light blush tints his cheeks. “But you forgot too!”

“Also guilty,” Minhyuk nods, setting the bag on the counter. “That’s why I had to knock.”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Jooheon interrupts. “You got the dumplings I like, right?”

“Of course I did,” Minhyuk says. He plops down on the barstool beside Jooheon. “I’ve pretty much perfected the art of takeout.”

“Dude, you already fucking started eating this on the way here, didn’t you,” Jooheon says after opening one of the styrofoam containers.

“Um. No?”

“There’s a _dent_ in this rice, Minhyuk. I can literally see it.”

Kihyun laughs. He takes in the scene, his best friend and his boyfriend bickering over Chinese food, the setting sun watching them from the horizon, the curtains the perfect shade of white, the countertop not too polished—it was Minhyuk’s new house in Gwangju that Kihyun just moved into last week. He didn’t tell the company first, since he knew his time there was on its last breaths, and it was a _home_. Now, it was _their_ home.

Minhyuk’s laughter breaks Kihyun’s train of thought.

“Kihyun, you actually ripped up the new contract they were trying to get you guys to sign? Right in front of him?” Minhyuk giggles.

“It was awesome, the greatest ‘fuck you’ in the history of all ‘fuck you’s,” Jooheon says, cheek stuffed with dumpling.

“That’s hilarious,” Minhyuk says. “I feel like we have the old Kihyun back, you know, the really stubborn one that _always_ tries to get his way. I missed him.”

Kihyun had thought it would be a tough decision, but it wasn’t. Not renewing his contract had immediately become one of the easiest things he’s ever done. Only second to letting himself come home to Minhyuk’s heart.

“So, when can I hear 2Chain’s first official independent album?” Minhyuk says, shoveling rice into his mouth. “Am I gonna have to download Soundcloud?”

“Actually, I’ve got a lot of lyrics written already,” Kihyun says. “It’s weird, writing comes so easily to me these days, I’m about to pump out the entire album by next week.”

Minhyuk looks impressed, but Jooheon’s rolling his eyes beside him.

“God,” Jooheon says. “Don’t get him started. All the new songs are a sappy lovefest and they’re all about you, Minhyuk. And I love you man, but I can _not_ be singing about kissing you under the moonlight or whatever else cheesy romantic shit Kihyun’s come up with, no matter how genius it is.”

Kihyun turns tomato red, the flush travels from his cheeks all the way down to his neck, and Minhyuk throws his head back laughing. Before Kihyun can defend himself, Minhyuk’s hopping off the barstool and down to the basement, two steps at a time, calling out something about champagne over his shoulder.

They’re out of champagne, so Sprite will have to do.

The three of them laugh and share food and drinks and each other’s happiness well into the evening. Despite Jooheon’s claims of the night being a 2Chain only event, Kihyun ushers him out the door with a container full of the leftover dumplings in hand before it gets too late.

By the time Kihyun retreats back to their bedroom, Minhyuk is already wrapped up in the blankets, phone screen way too close to his face, the brightness still up way too high. Some things never change, he supposes.

The closet doors are heavy but Kihyun tries not to show his strain as he pushes them open to rummage through for pajamas. Kihyun pulls his shirt over his head, which gives Minhyuk front row seats to a full view of his back. Minhyuk whistles.

“Can you please be quiet,” Kihyun says, tugging on his pajama pants. Minhyuk just laughs.

“You are so easy to annoy,” Minhyuk says. He flops across Kihyun’s side of the bed and examines the books stacked on his nightstand. He picks one up and runs his fingers along the cover, over the embossed lettering. The lack of a thin film of dust on the surface indicates that it’s new. “Oh my god, Kihyun. Is Harry Potter all you read? I swear you have like three separate copies of the whole series.”

Kihyun whips his head back to look at Minhyuk, mid closing the closet doors (which is quite a task). They slide back open under Kihyun’s clumsy grip. “It’s the 30th anniversary special edition! I couldn’t _not_ get it,” he says.

Minhyuk snorts, and continues to get his fingerprints all over Kihyun’s 30th anniversary special edition of _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ , and so Kihyun decides the only appropriate response is to tackle Minhyuk and swat the book out of his grasp. Which is what he does.

Minhyuk’s pretty strong, but surprisingly, Kihyun’s stronger. Changkyun always jokes that Kihyun just has more of it—‘it’ being a variety of things from anger to stubbornness to sheer willpower—and the fact that it’s all concentrated into his tiny body just makes it all the more deadly. Kihyun usually ends up smacking the back of his head because _we’re the same height, asshole_.

The book falls to the floor, the hardback cover colliding with the hardwood floors. The corner that struck against the floor probably has a dent now, but Kihyun’s too preoccupied with pinning Minhyuk down to care, pressing Minhyuk’s wrists against the mattress with his pudgy fingers.

“Hey, this is super random but,” Minhyuk says, as if his arms aren’t pinned down and they’re in the middle of a normal conversation, as if he’s talking about the weather. “Do you remember what you wished for on our 24th birthday? You never told me, but I’ve always wondered.”

Kihyun grimaces. “Do you have to say ‘our’? That makes it sound like we’re twins or something.”

“Okay, I was looking forward to having celebratory ‘my boyfriend ripped up his contract in front of his boss’ sex after this but now I can’t with the mental image of sharing the womb with you.”

Kihyun releases his grip from Minhyuk’s wrists and slumps down onto the mattress beside him. He closes his eyes and sorts through his brain for memories of his 24th birthday—he’s supplied the set of their music video for Spotlight. There’s fragments of Hoseok trying to blow out their candles and the candle wax melting right into the frosting, which no one cared about and ate anyway.

A light switches on in his brain and he drags his palms down his face. “God, Minhyuk. It was something really embarrassing, I’m not even gonna repeat it.”

“Well, now you _have_ to tell me,” Minhyuk says. He tucks his forearm under his cheek. His cheek looks squishy and Kihyun wants to reach out and poke it. “It’s the rules.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Just tell me, Kihyun.”

“I know you’re already storing this in your mental blackmail folder.”

“Oh, you know I will. But you have to tell me first.”

Kihyun gives him a pointed look and Minhyuk’s just flashing a grin. Kihyun sighs. “Okay, fine. I don’t remember exactly but it was something incredibly dorky—I was probably wishing we were born in like, a different timeline or something. So we could end up together.”

Minhyuk bursts into laughter.

Kihyun’s forehead creases and he shoves Minhyuk’s chest. “Don’t laugh.” Minhyuk doesn’t stop laughing.

“Oh, that is so funny,” Minhyuk says, dramatically wiping away a tear. “Kihyun, seriously, you’re so funny and you don’t even know it.”

Kihyun scowls. Minhyuk continues, “But also like. Kind of fucking adorable. A whole other timeline?”

“We were idols! I thought it was never gonna happen.”

“ _Were_. I love that it’s in past tense,” Minhyuk says. “Fuck, and I mean this wholeheartedly, all that idol shit.”

Kihyun smiles so big that his eyes turn into crescents, and his dimples appear, too. Beyond their window, the orange Gwangju sun disappears behind the line where the sky kisses the land. It’s been a while since he’s seen the _real_ sun, and it feels good, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it feels _free_. Kihyun feels free like he’ll never write another shitty song again, like he’ll never have to fake a smile even though he’d only gotten two hours of sleep the night before, like he’ll never be afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. And like he’ll never lose Minhyuk again.

And when Minhyuk envelopes Kihyun in the warmth of his embrace, finding his lips in the darkness of their bedroom so perfectly like they’re made for each other, Kihyun thinks maybe he finally has done something right.

_< end of tape >  
< eject > or < replay >_


End file.
